The Devil's Plaything
by Crystal Dawn
Summary: In a violent world ruled by demons, what will become of Ichigo when he discovers he's something more than human? And what is the secret behind the strange effect Orihime has on him? AU, clearly!
1. Chapter 1: The First Seal

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 1 - The First Seal  
**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST.  
**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

* * *

Dreary, gray light filtered through the classroom blinds, shedding dull illumination on the desk by the window. The skies were overcast, possibly threatening rain, the auburn-haired girl at the desk thought to herself. She briefly wondered whether she would need her umbrella or raincoat before her mind flitted to wondering if the air smelled of rain outside at that moment. No, she decided; even though it was spring, it was still cold, and the air most likely smelled of sulfur, as it always did.

A chill ran up Orihime's arms as she recalled how cool it was this morning and how she'd forgotten her jacket at home. Her eyes flickered briefly to the front of the classroom, past the two strange new students and towards the history teacher. He was lecturing about the Sengoku era, giving the students a brief overview before delving into the subject matter in detail.

"In 1560, the first Demon King, Oda Nobunaga, routed Imagawa Yoshimoto at Okehazama, thus giving the demonic nobility a small foothold in Japan. By the time of his death at the hands of a human subordinate in 1582, he had consolidated most of the Japanese countryside. His successor, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, unified the rest; after his death in 1598, two of his vassals vied to be proclaimed his successor. In 1600, the human Ishida Mitsunari was defeated by Tokugawa Ieyasu at Sekigahara, which led to the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate, which reigned for over two hundred and fifty years..."

Orihime's eyes began to flutter as the teacher droned on, his monotony only broken by the click-clack of chalk on the chalkboard. She had already read the lesson the night before (in addition to having seen roughly a dozen documentaries and dramas about the time period over the course of her life), so none of this was new to her. As the teacher's voice blurred into one long hum, Orihime's mind began to wander into its own version of the Sengoku era...

_The clank of metal on wood filled the hallways leading to Inoue Orihime's room. The girl herself sat, legs tucked under her bottom, and waited. Suddenly, the wooden sliding door to her small room slammed open, a contingent of heavily armored samurai pouring in._

_"Where are the scrolls?" their leader barked, pointing his long nodachi directly at her throat. Orihime simply lifted her chin defiantly and leveled a stern gaze at him._

_"I have nothing to say to you," she replied clearly. Seeing that she wasn't going to respond to threats, the leader dismissed his men, who slid the door shut behind themselves with a small, wooden click. He sheathed his sword and reached up to free his head from his helmet, shaking out an unruly shock of red hair. His demonic red eyes seemed to be staring right through her as he scowled._

_"If you won't cooperate, I'll just have to change tactics." His helmet fell to the floor with a clang as he began to untie his breastplate. Orihime's stare didn't waver as she watched him, although she could feel her pulse race._

_"I will warn you, Lord Samurai - I am but a mortal woman. You will have to treat me more gently than one of your Succubi." She was transfixed as he smiled, a terrible cold smile, his canines decidedly sharper and keener than a human's..._

Orihime was jolted from her reverie by the sound of the lunch bell. The teacher quickly assigned the reading for the evening and dismissed the class. As Orihime's eyes refocused, she became dimly aware that her pulse matched that from her daydream and that her face felt more than a bit warm. Worse than that, when she reached up to pat her cheeks, she happened to notice that the redhaired boy with the cinnamon-colored brown eyes a few seats in front of her had turned back to stare quizzically at her.

Orihime's heart skipped a beat as she momentarily wondered if he could read minds. What if Kurosaki-kun could tell what her daydream had been about just by looking at her face? She didn't even know why she'd thought up something that racy, how could she explain it to him? But before she could concoct a believable excuse, Sado-kun pulled him away to lunch. Breathing a sigh of relief and thanking whatever gods still favored humans for the tall Mexican's presence, Orihime bent down to pick up her own lunch.

"You ready?" a lively voice called to Orihime, causing her to lift her head (and almost bump it into the bottom of her desk). The girl calling her had spiky black hair and mischievous brown eyes; her lunchbag was slung over her shoulder, while her other hand rested on her hip.

"Oh! Tatsuki-chan! I was just getting my lunch," Orihime responded, holding up the brown paper bag with a big smile. Tatsuki simply shook her head and motioned for her to get up. She obliged, hopping up from her chair obediently and following the black haired girl towards the corner in which the girls in class usually ate lunch.

"What'd you bring today?" Tatsuki finally asked. Orihime plopped down into one of the desks that had been arranged into something of a circle in the back of the room and began unpacking her lunch. Several of her already-seated classmates turned to look on out of curiosity.

"Peanut butter and green onion sandwiches!" Orihime said proudly. Tatsuki and a few of their classmates looked as though they might be ill. Still, they took seats around the ring of desks and began unpacking their own lunchbags.

"Well, I think it's cute," an amorous, bespectacled redhead said, leaning closer to Orihime as she began to eat. She placed a well-manicured finger underneath Orihime's chin, drawing the clueless girl's attention mid-chew. Before she could do anything more, however, Tatsuki's fist came across the back of Orihime's head and connected squarely with Chizuru's jaw.

"Back off and let her eat in peace, succubus," Tatsuki growled, settling in for her lunch as the girl she'd just laid out sprang back into her seat.

"I'll have you know I'm just as human as the rest of you," Chizuru sniffed. "I'm just inherently more in tune with my natural instincts!" Before another scuffle could ensue, however, a girl with long, straight hair, Ryo, stopped them.

"Speaking of," she said, changing the subject, "That was quite an interesting lesson today." Orihime hid behind her sandwich a bit, for fear that her cheeks would flame up again.

"Do you think so? It's only the same stuff we've heard all our lives," a short girl with glasses, Michiru, replied as she dug into her bento.

"Ryo's right, you know," Tatsuki chimed in, "It's best to be informed, even if we've already heard it a billion times already. What're you gonna do if you run into one of them in a dark alley?" Chizuru regarded her boredly, propping her head up with one fist.

"What good does being informed do?" she asked over her glasses, "It's not as if it would change anything. If you met one in a dark alley, you wouldn't be able to keep her from having her way with you, anyway." Ryo looked slightly exasperated.

"First of all," Ryo countered, "If you had bothered reading your lesson, you'd know that's been illegal since 1855. And secondly, it's not as if you have much to worry about anyway. I'd be more worried about the _Succubus_ that decided to jump _you_." Chizuru's eyes twinkled a bit.

"Well, I guess that's true," she nodded in agreement, leaning towards Orihime again, "Besides, any demon in their right minds would go for my Hime-chan first! Or Nemu-chan, although..." Orihime continued chewing her sandwich, nearly oblivious to Tatsuki pushing their red-haired friend away from her seat.

"She's kind of strange?" Michiru finished the thought, hiding a bit behind her juice box. The taciturn, black-haired girl spared the group a disinterested look from across the room before turning back to the math book she had opened on the desk before her. As she bent forward to point out a problem in the book to her companion, a dainty silver bracelet caught the light from her wrist, and her generous bosom lightly brushed his arm. The bespectacled youth seemed not to notice as he set about showing her how to solve for the variable.

"Like draws to like, I guess," Chizuru continued, looking at the black-haired pair that seemed to be studying through lunch. "He's just as weird as she is."

"Ishida-kun isn't that bad," Orihime piped up from over her sandwich, "He's just quiet." Ryo nodded in agreement.

"He's not as weird as that red-haired transfer student," she said quietly, even though he and his petite friend had left the room, "Seriously, his eyes and those tattoos give me the creeps."

"And you said _I_ was a demon," Chizuru scoffed, sipping at her juice box, "Who lets their fifteen year old get tattoos all over their face? And those eyes, yeesh." Orihime's mouth turned down in a small frown.

"Chizuru-chan, that's not nice," she chided, "Maybe he just liked the way they looked." Even Orihime had to admit, though, that the taller student was just a bit on the intimidating side. Still, it wasn't fair to judge him by his appearance.

"Orihime's right," Michiru said over her bento, "Besides, if anyone in this class is a demon, it's that Kurosaki. All he does is fight, and that hair is totally abnormal." Orihime almost choked as she remembered her earlier daydream and her bite of sandwich went down the wrong way. Tatsuki reached over to pat her on the back as she responded to Michiru.

"Have you actually ever seen his family?" Tatsuki asked skeptically, "There's no way any of them are demonic - his dad's the biggest cream puff ever." Orihime once again offered a silent prayer of thanks for Tatsuki's presence; leave it to her to interject common sense into a conversation.

"Besides," Ryo interjected coolly, "If you say anything worse about him, Orihime might have a heart attack." Orihime sputtered a bit, but thankfully avoided swallowing anything the wrong way this time.

"Ryo-chan!" she protested, "That's not fair!" And so the conversation continued, the five girls taking turns prodding one another as the lunch hour passed.

* * *

Orihime looked up at the rapidly darkening gray sky, her feet seeming to find their way towards her apartment on their own. She could scarcely believe it was getting dark so early, but it _was_ only early spring after all, and the days hadn't really begun to get longer yet. As such, the chill had started to settle in early today, making her shiver and wish again that she'd brought her sweater or a jacket out this morning. Really, the only thing she had to be thankful for was that it hadn't decided to rain on her yet.

As she gingerly rubbed her arms, she noticed that a stray sprig of hair had come undone from her flower-shaped hairpins. She tried once or twice to blow it out of her eyes with her breath, but found that it simply fell back into its earlier position as soon as she stopped blowing.

Tucking her school bag between her knees, Orihime lifted her hands to her bangs and the loose hairpin. Drawing the hairpin from the offending side out of her bangs, she took a second to admire the blue flower that adorned the tip. The six petals glinted as she turned it this way and that and the street lights switched on for the evening. They had been a gift from her brother before his death; he'd always been adamant that she wear them at all times in public, and at the time, she'd resented it. Once he had died, though, she hadn't let herself be seen once without them. Rearranging one of them shouldn't count, though, should it?

As she drew back the loose bangs and prepared to pin them back, it suddenly occurred to her that the temperature around her had dropped several degrees. She looked up at the street lights - they were beginning to waver and look hazy... and was that snow? The cold felt abnormal, though; it was oppressive and unnatural, and felt as though it was sucking all the warmth from her bones. Orihime's eyes widened; she had felt this chill once before. Her hand clutched her free hairpin instinctively as she looked around almost frantically. Unfortunately, the falling dusk had severely limited the range of her visibility, and whatever she was looking for remained undetected.

"H-Hello?" she called, her voice starting to tremble in the chill. Her senses were screaming at her to run, and quickly. Instead, an urgent sense of fear rooted her feet to the sidewalk as she clutched her hairpin. She willed herself to move; she knew that if she stayed still much longer, she'd be dead.

It was already too late, though. As she reached down to get her school bag from between her legs, she felt a cold, clawed hand close around her throat, pulling her back into a shadowy alley. Her school bag went skittering down the sidewalk as she flew back in the other direction. As her back collided hard with one of the brick buildings on either side of the narrow walkway, Orihime felt the air explode from her lungs.

It was then that she heard them; three, maybe four, dark figures, murmuring to each other in low, hissing voices. The cold feeling from before was downright icy now, particularly where a strong hand pinned her throat to the wall behind her. The blood that traveled through her neck quickly spread throughout her body like ice water, chilling her deeply. Her vision was blurred from the impact, but she knew what those voices were coming from. Their glinting red eyes were dead giveaways; they were demons. A few more seconds passed before her head cleared and she realized they were actually speaking to her.

"Aren't you a cute little thing," the one pinning her to the brick by her neck ground out, running a rough thumb along her lower lip. The other voices sneered agreement. Orihime hazily thought to herself that these demons must be lower class, or maybe completely feral; the civilized demons had that law that Ryo had talked about earlier to abide by, didn't they? Or were they just going to eat her instead? Not that it mattered much now; a set of claws was digging its way under the skin on her neck, releasing small rivulets of blood down her exposed throat and causing Orihime to whimper.

"You even bleed pretty," the leader said again, leaning closer to her face. His facial features blurred to her, the only thing standing out being his glowing red eyes. His companions seemed to get a bit more agitated by this, jockeying for position on who got seconds or thirds. Worse, Orihime could feel the creature's rancid breath on her cheeks, causing her to turn her face away and tremble. She brought one hand up to his wrist, trying feebly to pry his hand away. Her grip, though, was no match for his.

She wanted to kick and scream as his slimy tongue lapped some of the blood away from the collar of her school shirt where it was collecting. Her legs felt like lead, though, and her voice only escaped her throat as a mangled squeak. Worse, all the cold was causing her nipples to visibly pucker beneath her shirt; she silently prayed none of them noticed this. Suddenly, she felt something rough and cold brush the skin of her thigh, right beneath the hem of her skirt. Orihime's eyes widened as she realized the demon's hand was traveling up her leg and towards the leg band of her panties. Her heart raced as tears escaped the corners of her eyes. The only thought she could formulate was "no, no, no", repeated inside her head like a mantra. His hand trailed around to her bottom, cupping it hard enough to leave a mark and drawing her lower body forward to crush against his own.

Orihime's lower lip trembled as cold teeth sank into the skin of her throat. She was almost certain she could feel her flesh parting as the demon alternated between biting and sucking her neck. Worse, her stomach churned as she felt a moan rumble from the demon's throat into her own. With his body pressed as closely to hers as it was, she could also feel the beginnings of an erection straining against his pants. Strangely, she found that she could no longer bring herself to be terrified; as it was, she felt as though she might pass out at any moment.

"Oi!" The voice came from the end of the alley, drawing Orihime's attention back into focus, as well as the attention of her attackers. "The hell do you think you're doing to her?" Orihime's eyes widened with gratitude; even though the street lights had thrown shadows over his face from behind, she could tell it was Kurosaki-kun. She briefly wondered why he was out this way - they didn't live in the same direction, did they? - but that was short-lived as the demons had turned their attention to him.

"Go home, human," the leader of the group sneered, "This isn't some kiddy game. The grown ups are having a little conversation over here. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" Orihime didn't dare make a noise; the claws were gripping the flesh at her neck too tightly to risk moving.

"_Inoue?_" Orihime flinched; he wouldn't think badly of her, would he? Worse, she worried he might charge the demons around her. Neither one of them stood a chance against this group. They were just humans, after all. "Get the hell off of her!" Oh no, he _was_ going to fight them. She wanted to scream and tell him to run and save himself, but it was too late; Ichigo's elbow had already connected with the temple of one of the demons. A sickening crunch reached her ears from the other end of the alley.

Unfortunately, Orihime could see that it didn't have much effect on the demon. In fact, the larger creature shook his head and simply laughed, a grating, bellowing noise, and backhanded the red-headed boy into the nearby wall. Orihime's eyes filled with tears as she watched the demon kick her downed classmate in the ribs, a gush of crimson bursting from his lips. The rest of the small gang circled the boy for a moment before diving for him. Oh god, Kurosaki-kun was going to die, and it was all going to be her fault. If she even survived, she'd never be able to forgive herself.

"Stop it, stop it!" She finally screamed, unable to take it anymore. "I'm the one you want! Do whatever you want to me, just stop hurting hi-" Orihime fell silent as the demon holding her slid two long, cold fingers into her mouth and pressed down on her tongue. Tears squeezed out of her eyes as she clinched them shut and suppressed a gag.

"Don't be stupid, human," he hissed close to her ear. "We're going to do whatever we want anyway, so why don't you just stay still and enjoy it?" She flinched away from his face, giving him the pleasure of another whimper. Before he could press any further with her, though, the alleyway was filled with a flash of red light and a noise like a peal of thunder or the crack of a large tree branch.

Orihime could barely believe what she was seeing. Ichigo was kneeling at the other end of the alley surrounded by the other three startled demons. His injuries had vanished, as well as his school uniform; instead, he now wore a pair of black hakama pants, and a long, tattered black coat. Orihime briefly thought he looked eerily like the samurai from her daydream as his unruly red hair whipped about his face. That comparison came crashing down on her as he lifted his head and stood; she could clearly see red markings on his cheeks and a keen black nodachi in his right hand, chain dangling from the end of the hilt. Worse yet, when he opened his eyes, she could see them from her end of the alley; red, glittering, and sharp, they glowed with an inhuman light.

Kurosaki-kun himself was a demon.

She continued to stare, barely comprehending, until Ichigo began to tear through his opponents as though they were made of paper. The one that had kicked him stared, dumbstruck, as one of his meaty arms flew past his face. Before he had much of a chance to react, however, the rest of his body was split neatly in two by the thin black sword. The other two rushed him at once, roaring at the indignity of watching their friend be cut down by what at first had appeared to be a harmless human boy. One by one they fell, their bodies cleanly cut in twain with swift, strong strokes.

The carnage was beginning to make Orihime feel dizzy; suddenly, the tide had turned and it was Ichigo who was breaking bones and tearing sinew. His face was now twisted into a sinister snarl, as he flicked the blood from his sword and his eyes focused on the demon pinning Orihime to the wall. Even though he wasn't looking at her, just that vicious gaze being aimed in her general direction was enough to make her feel nauseous.

The demon holding onto her, on the other hand, twisted his face into a horrible caricature of a smile. "A Wraith, huh?" he asked, amusement evident in his tone. "Think you can take me, boy?" Suddenly, Orihime found herself flung through the air behind her attacker. He had discarded her, instead choosing to focus on fighting with Ichigo, and for that she was momentarily grateful. That was, until her head connected with the concrete of the alleyway behind her and she lost consciousness, anyway.

"I don't think, asshole, I know." Ichigo briefly noticed Orihime pass into unconsciousness as she hit the ground; his classmate suddenly felt different to him now. Hell, the whole world suddenly felt different to him now. His senses were sharper, his reflexes faster. His body felt like a taught coil, ready to spring at the slightest provocation. There was a bubbling heat flowing through his veins now, something more than blood. It felt like liquid rage, or grinding anger, and it was almost making him dizzy with intoxication. He had no clue what the hell had happened to bring this about, but he wasn't questioning it too much at the moment; at the moment, there was a pissed off demon charging him, dagger-like claws bared.

Instinctively setting himself into a good, aggressive posture, Ichigo struck out, swinging his new sword at the demon before him. The leader of the pack seemed to be a bit more intelligent than his lackies; he was able to parry with his claws, pushing Ichigo back a step before diving towards him.

For a second, he was distracted by the claws on the demon's right hand; they were coated in a dark, viscous fluid. Through the twilight, he realized that this was Inoue's blood. More than the visual imprint of it, though, he could smell it. A mixture of jealousy and rage shot through him unbidden. Suddenly, more than concern for his classmate, he felt possessive, and frighteningly so. He wanted nothing more than to rip the creature before him to shreds for touching - for tasting - what he now wanted so badly. The red smear at the demon's lips only made his rage that much keener.

That momentary distraction provided his opponent the opportunity to sink his claws into Ichigo's right shoulder. He roared in pain, skidding backwards as he clutched at his injured shoulder blade. His eyes flashed with fury as the other demon righted himself, laughing in condescension. One by one, he licked his stained fingers, looking from underneath his bangs as he did at Ichigo.

"Yours isn't as good as hers," the demon taunted. "Hers is real sweet, like honey or somethin'. Bet her whole body is. Thanks for that, by the way - since you got rid of those other assholes, I don't have to share now." Ichigo felt his temperature rise, blood thundering in his ears. It was almost as though scalding heat were flowing through his veins.

"You don't have to share anyway," he yelled, leveling his sword, "Since you won't touch her again!" Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he charged, grinding his teeth together. The other demon did the same, arms and claws outstretched, his face distorted into a wicked grin.

With one strong thrust, it was over. There was a slick crunching sound as the clawed demon impaled himself neatly upon the black blade of Ichigo's nodachi, sliding down it until his nails were nearly brushing Ichigo's face.

A look of disbelief painted his face as a thin stream of blood trailed out of the corner of the demon's mouth. "Sneaky bastard," he gurgled, "That was dirty pool. Fucking inhibitor!" Ichigo had no idea what he was babbling about. Instead, he drew up with the blade, his face twisting into a toothy grin as it erupted from his victim's shoulder in a spray of deep crimson.

"Serves you right for touching her," he hissed as the body hit the cold concrete. "She's mine." Wait, what? Why would he say that about Inoue? She was just a classmate, wasn't she? Now that the fight was over and his pulse was beginning to slow back down, his thoughts made less and less sense. Had he been in some kind of frenzy? He was trying to defend the girl that lay prone on the other end of the alley, but somehow, instinct was contradicting him.

Ichigo put a hand to his head; a sudden wave of vertigo washed over him as he swayed on his feet. There was a second red flash as the black clothing and sword vanished, leaving behind only a stained school uniform and the injury in his shoulder. The glow faded from his eyes as he blinked to clear them, his irises reverting from glinting red to their normal cinnamon brown color.

He surveyed the alley; the bodies of his fallen attackers were strewn about, blood coating the walls. Had he actually done all that? Even if they _were_ only feral, clanless demons, the law would still be harsh on any human that committed such a crime. He had to get out of here and figure out what had just happened to him.

Worse, he glanced back towards the other end of the alley. Before he could even consider running, his feet carried him towards his fallen classmate. She was still alive; he could somehow feel that now. As he neared her unconscious body, his thoughts once again began to go in bizarre directions as he dropped to his knees beside her.

He knew he had to take her to his father's clinic; they would be able to treat her there. Upon seeing - and smelling - the blood at her collar, however, his thoughts began to take a more sinister turn. He didn't _have_ to take her straight to his father; he could sneak her into his room. He didn't have to take her home at all; this alley would suffice, wouldn't it? He could do whatever he wanted! He could take the time to lap all the blood away from her throat, rip the buttons off her shirt, touch those glorious breasts and their taut nipples...

Almost as if transfixed, Ichigo reached for the wounds on Orihime's neck, which were still weeping ever so slightly. 'Just a taste,' he thought feverishly, 'I just want to see what it's like.' His fingers hovered a few centimeters above the gashes, though, seemingly frozen. Something was holding him back. Some part of him knew, deep, deep inside, that if he tasted that blood, there would be no going back. Something was telling him that if he crossed that threshold, he'd become completely inhuman.

"Shit!" Ichigo leaned forward, covering his face with his hands, and laced his fingers through his hair. As he clutched the fiery orange strands, he screwed his eyes shut, willing the obscene thoughts back to the depths of his mind. He could figure out what the hell was wrong with him later; right now, he had to concentrate on getting both of them back to his place, preferably without hurting Inoue any worse than she already was.

Ignoring the pounding in his head and the scent of Orihime's body, he scooped the injured girl up and held her tighter than was probably necessary against his chest. Eyes barely open, he grabbed both of their school bags and darted out of the alley as quickly as he could, stepping over the splattered blood and various broken and sundered pieces of their attackers as he did so.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Ichigo, perched on one of the brick buildings several stories above his alley, a man and a woman stood watching him race away with Orihime, silhouetted by the rising crescent moon.

"Aha!" the male said, pushing a pair of goggles up to his deep red eyebrows, "I knew it! We've got a contact! Looks like a pretty good one, too. Let's go get 'im!" As he leaned toward the edge of the rooftop, though, the smaller woman put a hand out to stop him.

"No," she said firmly, "Not yet. It would be foolish to step in now. For now, let us report back." The male groaned; he wasn't fond of the reporting part, but at least they had something to report for once.

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2: Contact

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 2 - Contact  
**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST  
**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products (really, in this chapter!). Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

* * *

The handle of the door jiggled once. Then twice. Then it finally swung open, as if kicked, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang.

Ichigo frantically looked around his family's dimly-lit living room. No father, no sisters; his first instinctual thought was 'Good'. Then his second thought was that no, it was _not_ good, and that he needed his family's help to take care of the girl who was currently bleeding in his arms. He could save the kicking himself for later, though; right now, Inoue needed help.

For her part, Orihime had been completely still on the way home, at least as far as Ichigo could tell. His mind had stayed preoccupied with fighting the weird urges he'd had ever since that fight. Part of him, though, was worried that she might be concussed, or worse. If moving her had injured her further, he believed he might just hate himself forever. Before he could argue with himself any longer, though, a set of footsteps pounded towards him.

"I-CHI-GO!" a deep voice boomed, causing the boy to crouch instinctively as a large arm sailed above his head. "You're late! You know the penalt- Eh?" Ichigo's father, Isshin, stopped mid-clothesline, and looked down at his son. He was glaring up at the older man through blood-flecked hair. In fact, most of his body had blood caked on it. His school shirt was ruined completely beyond salvation between the blood and the gashes, and it was fairly clear that he had some deep cuts on his upper arm and back. All in all, Ichigo looked like he'd just been dragged out of hell screaming.

It was then that Isshin saw what he held in his arms. The girl looked worse than his son, especially considering that she wasn't conscious at the moment. That was probably a good thing, too, he mused, taking in all the blood that had left the gashes on her throat. As he took in her wounds, a glimmer of recognition flitted across his face. A hand instinctively rose to his nose; the scent of her blood was quickly filling the room. This was incredibly bad.

"Ichigo," he started to reach for the girl but stopped short when he saw his son's expression. The teenager's eyes flashed as his lip curled - most likely involuntarily - to expose his teeth in a quiet snarl. It was a very clear warning: This is mine, do not fuck with me. Yes, this was _very_ bad.

"Karin! Yuzu!" Isshin yelled, changing tactics as he called for his daughters, "Prep the treatment room! Ichigo, meet them there." He watched his son's features relax from their earlier defensiveness to a state closer to confusion. He knew that whatever had happened, his sisters' presence would calm him. He also wasn't quite keen on leaving Ichigo alone with the injured girl in his obviously disoriented state. "Now! Get moving!" he barked, slipping easily into professional mode. When Ichigo still didn't move, he thumped him soundly on the back, breaking his stupor and causing him to run towards the treatment room in the back of the clinic.

Silently, Isshin took a deep breath. Whatever had just happened, his son was going to be in deep trouble, and it wouldn't be with him.

* * *

Karin had been the first to arrive, as her sister had been putting away the dinner dishes. She'd just prepared the examination table when Yuzu entered, drying her hands on a dish towel.

"What happened?" Yuzu asked, pulling a rolling cart over to her. She then opened the cabinet above the sink and pulling out clean towels and bandages, alcohol, swabs, a blood pressure cuff, and a stethoscope. She set the items on the cart and began pushing it towards the exam table.

"I think Ichi-nii brought someone in," Karin replied, her brows knitting together. Something about their father's tone had told her that something incredibly bad was going down.

Then, as if on cue, Ichigo entered the treatment room, nearly stumbling as he did so. Karin's jaw dropped at the girl he held in his arms as Yuzu ran around the cart to guide him to the table.

"Here! Put her down here!" the little blonde girl ordered. Ichigo complied reluctantly, his eyes looking slightly glazed. As dazed as he seemed to be, he was careful not to jostle his charge as he laid her down. As soon as Orihime's back hit the table, Yuzu bustled between the two bloody teenagers, applying a wet towel to the injured girl's neck. Ichigo let himself be pushed back a few feet as his sisters worked, still looking as though he were lost in a fog.

Karin watched her brother out of the corner of her eye while she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around the injured girl's arm. Aside from being obviously wounded, there was something else deeply wrong with him. They could wait to find out what that was, though; right now, they needed to concentrate on making sure the girl before them was going to be alright.

"Ichi-nii!" Yuzu finally broke the silence as Karin began pumping air into the blood pressure cuff. Ichigo's head snapped up as he heard his name, to see his blonde sister staring expectantly at him as she placed the stethoscope into her ears.

"What?" he asked numbly, not quite comprehending what she wanted.

"We have to take her shirt off so we can listen to her breathing!" Yuzu replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "So you should go stand outside." Karin released the pressure on the cuff and counted out her blood pressure; it was just a bit low, but not abnormally so, which was a good sign. She briefly looked up to see her brother flush bright red before he began to stumble towards the door.

"While you're at it," Karin piped in, "Change your own clothes and bring back one of your shirts for her. I don't think either of ours will fit her." She smiled a bit as her brother sputtered before heading out the door of the room.

Finally alone with the injured girl, Karin grabbed an operating gown from one of the cabinets behind her as Yuzu began unbuttoning Orihime's shirt. She unfolded the paper shift with a flourish; meanwhile, Yuzu slipped the round metal probe between the redhead's large breasts

"She's not having trouble breathing," she said thoughtfully, plucking the earpieces out of her ears.

"Help me get her out of this shirt," Karin replied, pushing the edges of the blouse apart to expose the older girl's plain pink bra. Yuzu laid the stethoscope aside, then helped her sister pull the stained school shirt off Orihime's arms. In short order, they'd removed the blood-soaked garment and tied her loosely into the paper gown Karin had brought out.

As soon as the last string was tied on it, Yuzu turned back towards the door and cupped her hand around her mouth. "Daddy, you can come in now! We're all decent!" As if on cue, Isshin's head popped into view through the door frame. Stepping into the room, he cast a glance at the cart his daughters had prepared for him, nodding his approval.

"What are her vitals like?" he asked Karin, slipping on a pair of gloves.

"Her blood pressure's at about 80 over 55, pulse and breathing are normal," Karin replied automatically as she brought out a few rolls of bandages. Isshin, meanwhile, gingerly lifted the towels at her neck; there was plenty of blood, but it fortunately seemed to be slowing.

As he began sopping the blood from her neck with the towels, a glinting blue light caught his attention. Orihime was wearing only one hairpin, on the left side. He thought it was a bit odd that there was nothing on the other side, and following a hunch, quickly looked the girl over. Sure enough, her right hand was balled into a tight little fist at her side, clenched shut for dear life.

"Aha" he said softly, temporarily abandoning the bloody towels and reaching over to take her closed hand. As gently as he could, Isshin pried the curled fingers open, finally spying the prize he sought - a matching blue hairpin. He quickly slid it from her hand, allowing it to drop back down to her side when he was done. With a serious expression, he pinned the bangs on the right side of her head behind her ear with the pin.

"Shouldn't have taken that off," he said under his breath, too softly for Karin and Yuzu to hear as they bustled about, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

* * *

Upstairs, Ichigo had practically flown to his room as fast as his legs would carry him. He was still fighting the part of himself that wanted to allow no one to separate him from Inoue, but as he slammed the door behind him and slumped against it, his heart slowed and his thoughts eased. As he breathed slowly, steadily, the fog seemed to lift from his brain and he could think coherently again.

Once his father had patched Inoue up, he could work on answering some of the questions that swirled around his now-clear head. What the hell had happened in that alleyway? Was he actually one of them? And why in the world had he been thinking all those things about his classmate?

Looking back on it, he couldn't think of a single, logical reason that he'd have had such an animalistic reaction to Inoue; she was just a girl he knew from school, right? Sure, she was pretty - you'd have to be blind not to notice she was well-endowed - but so were a lot of his friends. They hadn't even talked to each other all that much; when they had, she'd been somewhat soft-spoken and prone to flights of fancy. Hell, it wasn't even like he was that interested in girls! He had his hands full already with settling fights with assholes that thought he was a punk because of his hair; he hadn't even had time to entertain the thought of dating.

'Then what the hell _was_ that?' he thought, pushing himself off the door and moving to unbutton his ruined shirt. As he slid the last button loose and pulled at the sleeves, the back of the shirt stuck to the dried blood on his back. Wrinkling his nose and giving the fabric an extra tug, Ichigo winced as it pulled at his wounds.

The fact of the matter was, he reasoned, that he was a potential menace to the girl downstairs. He wasn't even sure he could trust himself around her anymore. Would he go nuts every time he saw her from now on? What if the next person to tear at her throat was him?

As if in answer to his thoughts, he raised an eyebrow as he noticed an odd stain on the front of his tattered shirt. "That's where Inoue..." he thought out loud, staring pointedly at the red mark left where, unbeknownst to Ichigo, Orihime had bled against him. He felt his willpower strain as he brought the shirt to his face and gingerly gave it a short sniff. It was the same overpowering, maddening scent that he'd first smelled in the alleyway and that had later filled the front room downstairs. It was _her_ scent.

His pulse sped up as he felt that delicious fog encroach upon the edges of his consciousness. He fought the urge to bury his face in the ruined shirt and inhale deeply, to let desire overtake him again. Instead, Ichigo stared at the bloody fabric with a look of disgust and something bordering on fear etched on his face. Finally, he wadded the shirt into as small of a ball as he could get it, making sure that one particular blood stain was well inside the folds of fabric, and threw it with a frustrated roar towards the wastebasket by his desk.

As his heart rate declined back to normal, Ichigo realized that it was Inoue's blood - or rather, its scent - that was driving him mad. Why? Living in a clinic, he'd seen his fair share of blood; why was hers doing this to him? Or was it because of whatever had happened to him in that alley? The thought that he might react this way to all blood from now on was certainly chilling. Did demons _drink_ it? Ichigo mentally slapped a palm to his forehead. He wasn't a demon. He and his whole family were human. There was simply no way.

Gritting his teeth, he left his chest bare until it could be bandaged, opting instead to snatch two t-shirts out of his chest of drawers. A slight blush rose to his cheeks as he silently wondered whether his shirts would fit across Inoue's chest. Then he mentally kicked himself for even worrying about it as he headed back out the door of his room, dreading having to face what was downstairs and feeling as though there was a lead weight in his stomach.

* * *

"And you say a gang did this?" Isshin asked incredulously, perhaps being a bit rougher with his son's wounds than was absolutely necessary.

"Yeah - fff!" Ichigo hissed as his father cleaned the gouges on his back with alcohol, hoping he'd never seen those kinds of wounds before. Of course, it was a long shot considering how many different kinds of cases they had on a regular basis, but it was worth the shot if he could keep his dad from asking any worse questions about what had happened.

"Did you just stand still while he cut you five times in the same spot?" Isshin retorted suspiciously. Ichigo knew he'd forgotten something. Crap.

"The... The guy had - sss! - he had a bagh nakh or something, I don't know!" He slouched forward, hoping his father was buying this.

"You didn't even see what they were fighting with?" came the indignant reply. "I thought I'd taught you better than that!" Ichigo looked up through his orange bangs; he thought his eyes might roll right out of his head at this point. Couldn't his dad just be happy he'd taken that errand on his way home and kept a girl from being maimed - or worse?

"No, it was dark," Ichigo snapped back, "Besides, something like this was - ngh! - just a matter of time! I've been getting in fights for years, I'm surprised it took 'em this long to bring weapons!" Isshin had just literally slapped some cold ointment onto the clean cuts, causing Ichigo to come abruptly to attention. Another second passed by before he felt bandages rolling across the rent flesh.

"Well, you two were lucky tonight," Isshin replied seriously, "Neither of your wounds were too deep, although Inoue's look much worse." Ichigo understood; his father was telling him to be more careful. A momentary pang of guilt ran through Ichigo's mind. What if she scarred? She didn't seem vain by any stretch of the imagination, but having a huge scar across her neck seemed like a damn shame.

"Yeah," he answered absentmindedly. And anyway, what was he going to say to her the next time he saw her? Don't talk, or else? Damn.

"More importantly..." Isshin kept his serious tone as he tightened his son's bandages, perhaps just a bit too tight, "Since when did you hang around with girls? You've been holding out on us, haven't you?" Ichigo's face turned nearly as red as his hair.

"What?" he sputtered indignantly, "It's not even like that! I was just walking home and I saw her! Besides, I've had Tatsuki over before!" This was all he needed; he had enough problems _without_ his crackpot dad insinuating things!

"Oh, Masaki!" Isshin addressed his deceased wife, "Do you hear this? Our boy has finally found a cute girlfriend and he won't even tell his dear old dad about it! I could cry from the shame!" Before he could lament any more, though, Ichigo had elbowed him in the face with his injured arm.

"Looks like it's in good shape anyway," Ichigo muttered, rotating his arm at the shoulder and testing the bandages as he stood. After another second, he looked back at his father, who was gingerly rubbing his chin. "She awake yet?" he asked, his tone softening. Isshin nodded.

"She was a bit dizzy, but fine otherwise," Isshin noted, jerking a thumb back towards the treatment room, "Karin and Yuzu have been keeping her company since she woke up. She was asking about you." Ichigo nodded his understanding before trudging back towards the room Inoue had been placed in.

As soon as Isshin was sure his son was out of earshot, he pulled his cell phone out of his shirt pocket. A quick scroll through its phonebook, and a call was placed. After a few dull tones, the party on the other end picked up.

"Hey," Isshin started bluntly, "It's Kurosaki. ...Yeah, I think it's pretty bad. ...No, that won't be necessary. Let's just do what we already discussed..."

Meanwhile, down the hall, Isshin's conversation went unnoticed as Ichigo hovered just outside the treatment room. His heart was racing again. Even though he knew she was no longer bleeding, even though his father had done _something_ to get the smell out of the house, he still couldn't help but worry that he was going to have a reaction to her like he'd had earlier.

Finally, he steeled his nerves and slid the door open. Sure enough, his sisters were sitting around the bed Orihime'd been moved to and were chatting the older girl up. Yuzu was holding dinner dishes and Orihime had one of her schoolbooks on her lap. Hearing the door slide open, though, the three girls fell silent and looked up at Ichigo.

"Hey," he started, bringing a hand to the back of his head and ruffling the hair there. Yuzu cast a knowing look at Karin before clearing her throat and standing.

"I should get started on these dishes," she said, turning back to her sister, "Karin, come help." Karin looked as if she was about to protest before giving her brother a curious glance; instead of arguing, she sighed in defeat.

"Yeah, sure," Karin replied, following Yuzu out of the room with a doubtful look back at Ichigo.

For his part, Ichigo studied the floor as they went. After the door snapped shut again, he pulled up a folding chair. The legs skidded across the tile floor as he straddled it, sitting backwards so he could fold his arms over the back rest. The metal was cold against his skin; he'd failed to pull his t-shirt on before coming back to see her.

'Maybe that's what she's staring at,' he thought, suddenly a bit self-conscious. The girl before him looked better than the last time he'd seen her. The wounds on her neck were swathed in bandages, for starters. She'd also at some point replaced her missing hairpin; her hair was now brushed and straight. For another thing, she was wearing one of his old t-shirts, the fabric across her chest pulled taut and distorting the design on the front. Ichigo silently kicked himself for even noticing that; of course it would look different on her, she wasn't built anything like him.

It was then that it hit him; he was able to think normally around Inoue again. There was no bloodlust, no madness, no weird thoughts. He hadn't even had a hint of his previous insanity since entering the room. Even now that he was alone with her, he still hadn't thought anything untoward or perverse. Ichigo smiled inwardly; that was one less thing to worry about.

"Umm," Inoue started, looking down at the book in her lap, "I just... wanted to thank you... for before." Ichigo's head snapped up as her faltering words pulled him back into the present. He'd almost forgotten about that. Suddenly, a new worry cropped up in his mind; what if she told someone? Worse, what if she thought he was dangerous or a monster?

"About that..." he replied, looking off at an incredibly interesting spot on the wall, "You're not... gonna tell anyone, are you?" Orihime's eyes widened as she looked at him.

"N-No! No, of course not!" she replied quickly, waving her hands in front of her chest, "I-I won't tell anyone that you're..." She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. Secretly, Ichigo was just the tiniest bit grateful for that. "U-Umm... H-have you... Have you always..."

Ichigo shook his head. "No," he replied quietly, hoping his family wasn't eavesdropping, "It's never happened before. I don't even know what it was. It's not like anyone in my family is even..." He trailed off again, unable to finish the thought. Before he could stumble over the words some more, though, he noticed Inoue smiling at him.

"It's alright, Kurosaki-kun," she said softly, "I'll keep your secret." Her expression caused Ichigo to relax a bit. He favored Orihime with a tired smile.

"Thanks," he said softly, looking down at the floor again. He was sure his face was a bit warmer than it had been a moment ago.

"A-Aah!" Orihime suddenly exclaimed, startling him, "What happened to your shoulder?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow; had she just noticed it?

"It's nothing," he remarked through a wobbly, encouraging smile, "The guy that was roughing you up got me back there is all."

"Is it really alright?" Orihime asked, moving the book off her lap and looking as though she wanted to get up and inspect the wound. Ichigo straightened up at that.

"It's fine!" he insisted, the smile leaving his face, "Just stay there! You lost a lot of blood, you shouldn't be up yet!" Orihime looked a bit embarrassed at his admonition.

"Y-Your father said it only looked bad," she said sheepishly, looking up at Ichigo from beneath thick eyelashes.

"Why are you even doing homework right now?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head and looking away, "You should just take it easy. It's not like you have to go to school tomorrow like that."

"A-Actually, he said it would be okay if I wanted to," Orihime corrected him shyly, "And I don't want to miss any days." Ichigo thought he might be developing a headache.

"That old goat," he grumbled. Wasn't he worried about her at all? What if she got attacked again? What if she was anemic now?

"It's okay, Kurosaki-kun," Orihime interrupted his internal litany of complaints and held up her schoolbook. "Besides, it's an interesting lesson!" Ichigo noticed she was reading her history lesson.

"The Sengoku lesson?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her enthusiastic nod. "Anyway, you should get some rest, especially if you're going to school in the morning." Ichigo unfolded himself from around the back of his metal chair and stood, moving toward the door.

"U-Umm..." Orihime haltingly spoke up, "Again, thank you, Kurosaki-kun. You were... really brave back there." Ichigo reached for the handle of the door, turning back to glance over his shoulder as he did. The girl in the bed was giving him an adoring look, one that made his face heat up. He quickly turned back to the door, hiding the blush that was beginning to stain his cheeks.

"It was nothing," he said quietly, his mouth beginning to feel dry, "I just couldn't stand to see someone get mauled like that." He didn't have to turn back to know that she was still smiling at him, regardless. "Night, Inoue," he said abruptly, needing to get out of the confines of the room.

"Goodnight, Kurosaki-kun," she replied softly, her voice warm. As the door clicked shut behind him, Orihime continued to smile to herself, a warm feeling spreading from her chest to her cheeks. Another few seconds passed before she huddled down into her borrowed t-shirt, inhaling Ichigo's scent from it. She giggled softly, feeling safe and warm as she snuggled into her borrowed bed.

* * *

Ichigo's night was anything but safe and warm. His wounds prevented him from sleeping on his back or his right side, which made tossing and turning inevitable. And when he _had_ managed to eke out a bit of shut-eye, it had been intruded upon by strange and disturbing dreams. Worse yet, he couldn't remember exactly what had happened in them. Images of the demons from the alley, a great, white, horned demon, screams, claws, swords, blood, all mingled together to break him from his hard-won slumber on more than one occasion. One bizarre interlude had even featured Inoue, a popsicle, an alien ray gun, and a bag of talking peanuts giving him advice.

So it was that he ran his hand over his face, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. He'd hardly said anything this morning, even to the eternally cheerful redhead at his side, as they'd walked to school through the spring chill. Not that she had minded; Inoue spent most of her time humming quietly to herself, for which Ichigo was fairly grateful. If she had said too much, he likely would've snapped at her, and that wasn't something he really wanted to do at the moment.

He silently eyed the collar of her shirt, wondering at Yuzu's handiwork. Somehow, his younger sister had gotten the bloodstains out of Orihime's school shirt, leaving it clean and pressed for their trip to school the next morning. 'I wonder if it's the same thing Dad used to get rid of the smell,' he thought, inwardly wincing at the memory of the scent of her blood. Whatever it was, it was a life-saver; the only indication of what had happened the night before was the gauze and bandages wrapped around her neck.

Before he was even aware of what was happening, they stood before the door of their homeroom. Ichigo hesitated as he reached for the knob, casting a wavering look at the girl beside him. Noticing his gaze, Orihime lifted her head to him and gave him a bit of a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her head.

"Don't forget," he said softly, trying his best not to sound threatening or angry with her. Not that she seemed to mind; Orihime looked a little pink around the cheeks, but she didn't look scared or worried. In fact, she seemed to be looking intently at his face, a vague shadow of confusion crossing her eyes for a second before she spoke.

"R-Right," she answered, "It was just a mean dog and your father treated me. I didn't forget!" It wasn't that Ichigo was worried she'd forget; it was that he was worried she'd insert an alien abduction or sumo wrestlers or yakuza into the story somewhere. He gave her his closest approximation to a reassuring smile; admittedly, on Ichigo's face, it came off a bit strained and odd-looking, but he was trying and that was what mattered, right?

"Right," he assured her with a nod, "Our little secret." That worked like a charm. Orihime nodded, a determined look on her pink-stained face. Ichigo had no doubts that she wouldn't intentionally breathe a word of it to anyone; after all, she'd kept mum about it to his family.

Finally looking away from the girl beside him, he reached for the door to the classroom and slid it open. It was much the same scene that greeted him every morning before class; Mizuiro was texting with his cell phone, Keigo was flailing at him, Chad sat quietly at his desk, Tatsuki was chatting with Ryo, Michiru, and Chizuru. That changed rapidly, though. One by one, they turned to stare at the young man coming through the door with his book bag slung carelessly over his shoulder and the red-haired girl that emerged from behind him. He wondered briefly if he had something on his face before he noticed that they were attracting the attention of the entire class.

"Morning," he waved, ignoring their stares and heading towards his desk. Keigo and the girls rushed over to Orihime, fairly well ignoring Ichigo as they cooed over her bandages. He unpacked his homework and books for the morning, watching dispassionately as Chizuru and Keigo fought to comfort Orihime in her time of need. Ichigo vaguely felt that spark of defiance burn briefly in his chest at the spectacle before him; he flinched for a second, irritated that it had returned in some measure. Whatever that thing was, it had better not happen in class, or he was done for.

"Where were you last night, Orihime?" Tatsuki asked, pushing Chizuru back and favoring Keigo with a threatening look, "I dropped by your place, but you weren't home." Orihime laughed awkwardly at the question.

"I-It's okay, Tatsuki-chan!" she dismissed her friend's concern, "I got bit by a dog on my way home and Kurosaki-kun's father treated me! So I stayed the night there! I-it's no big deal!" Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. 'Good girl, Inoue,' he mouthed silently. His relief was short-lived, however, as the scandalous news began to filter through his lively classmates' heads.

"A-At Ichigo's..." Keigo began, staring in disbelief at his spiky-haired friend before slamming his hands on the desk beside Ichigo. "How could you, Ichigo? I thought we had a pact of bachelorhood! I thought we were going to be single together until we both found girlfriends! But now you've betrayed me, and with the most beautiful girl in class! _How could you leave me behind?_" Ichigo glared darkly at his overly dramatic friend before knocking him away from his desk with a solid fist.

"Shut up, Keigo," he grumbled, calmly massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "It's not even like that." A shadowy figure hovered over his right arm, which he'd leaned against his desk.

"You're right 'it's not like that'," the barely-recognizable voice ground out, glasses glinting threateningly above Ichigo's red hair as a pair of knuckles cracked from somewhere close to his ear, "Because if you ever did anything dishonorable to our Hime-chan..." Before the statement could come to its proper climax, however, Tatsuki's foot collided with the aggressive figure's head, sending Chizuru sprawling sideways into the floor.

"Oh, can it," Tatsuki ordered, arms akimbo, "Like Ichigo would dare. Besides, you're one to talk about being 'dishonorable'." Ichigo looked past Tatsuki to notice the rather awkward-looking girl she was defending. Orihime had a nervous smile stretched across her face as her hands waved in the air in front of her.

"Please don't fight, you two!" she pleaded as the morning bell rang. All conversation was suspended as the students made their way to their seats and the teacher entered.

Ichigo propped his cheek against his hand and sighed. That had gone about as well as one could hope for. As he looked toward the front of the classroom, however, he noticed something odd. More specifically, he noticed four sets of eyes on him for the briefest of moments... and none of them looked particularly friendly.

Before the others, the girl with the long, black hair turned away, her face dispassionate as always. Ichigo had a hard time remembering anything specific about her; she was always quiet, wasn't she? He wasn't even sure of her name. She and the black-haired young man beside her turned away, one after the other. What the hell was their problem? The bespectacled young man had given him an especially dirty look; it wasn't like he'd ever spoken to either of them! He didn't even know their names! He crossed his arms with a huff as he watched the backs of their heads.

He noticed the other pair of onlookers a brief moment later. If the first pair had been odd and unsettling, the look in the new red-haired student and his black-haired companion's eyes was absolutely chilling. They'd only transferred in a few weeks ago, right? Ichigo ran through his memories, trying to think if he'd done anything deserving of the combustible death glare each of them was currently giving him. It was so intense he almost thought for a second that the red-eyed boy across the class from him might burn a hole through him with his gaze.

Instead, the tattooed redhead pushed his goggles a bit further up on his forehead and turned around to face the chalkboard. His companion's icy stare lingered a second longer before she followed suit. Ichigo leaned back in his chair, glaring daggers at their backs. As the teacher started her lesson for the morning, he almost hoped the redhead started something after school. Apparently, he hadn't gotten the urge to pummel someone out of his system well enough last night.

And as it turned out, he didn't even have to wait that long. The uneventful morning drug slowly on until the lunch bell finally rang. Before Ichigo could even pack his books up for the break, a large, firm hand seized his good shoulder and held him fast. His eyes narrowed as he thought that it was a very good thing that the larger man hadn't grabbed his bad shoulder; he might've snapped completely at that. As it was, his left eye was starting to twitch uncontrollably.

"Hey, Kurosaki," the tattooed redhead said from between teeth clinched into a predatory smile, "Me and Rukia were going to have lunch on the roof. Why don't you join us?" The two standing above his desk didn't look like they would take no for an answer; by the same token, though, it wasn't like Ichigo was just going to let them order him around. If they thought they could, they were in for a very rude awakening.

"Sorry," Ichigo snorted, "I don't have time for midgets and punks with a tattoo fetish." His derisive tone seemed to only make them angrier. 'Good,' he thought, scowling up at the man whose grip had just tightened on his shoulder, 'I could use a little stress relief.' Before either could lunge at the other, though, a tiny foot slammed down into his, causing his eyes to bulge as pure pain shot up through his leg.

"Oh, but we insist, Kurosaki-san," the petite, black-haired girl said sweetly as she ground her foot into Ichigo's, "After all, today is such a _lovely_-" and she punctuated the word with more pressure from her heel, "-day that it would be a shame to spend it inside, would it not?"

Before he could protest, the girl stepped off his foot as her companion practically dragged Ichigo by his shoulder out of his seat. Before he knew it, they were herding him towards the door, the small girl waving to their classmates as they headed out.

Unbeknownst to Ichigo, two sets of concerned eyes watched him go; a pale amber pair peering from beneath auburn bangs, and a heavily-lidded brown pair watching from beneath messy brown curls.


	3. Chapter 3: Red on Black

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 3 - Red on Black  
**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST  
**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever (or life eats me). Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the late update, everyone! I had originally meant to put this up a week ago, but life has been eating me (car problems – two of them! - problems with my apartment complex, problems at work) and I've been having a bit of angst over the RP I help mod, both of which combined to kill my ability to write (and I am sure to give me an ulcer). Most of it seems to have passed, though, so we should be good to go for the time being!

**Miss L**, sorry for the lack of description in the last chapter – that girl was Nemu. I just forgot to add that she had a braid in there (i-it was really late at night when I finished that chapter). Anyway, on with the show!

* * *

The metal door leading to the open air at the school roof slammed open hard, a tinny noise reverberating across the empty, fenced-in space. Two teenage boys marched through the open door, one practically shoving the other onto the roof, as a girl with short, black hair followed behind with dainty steps. As the door creaked shut again, the taller boy with the blood-red hair turned and shoved the boy with the bright orange hair hard into the brick beside the door.

"What the hell is the big idea?" Ichigo yelled in protest, pushing himself off the wall and back towards the redhead before him. The man before him scowled and pointed a finger, his eye twitching.

"I could ask you the exact same question!" came the equally loud and angry reply, "You got a lot of balls, going out in public without a limiter, you know that?" Ichigo could feel his blood pressure rise.

"What does that even mean?" he shot back, "You guys are the ones that've been shooting me nasty looks all morning! And who told you you could just come and grab me at my desk!" The snarling redhead looked as if he might lunge at Ichigo at any second.

Before anything drastic could happen, though, the petite, black-haired girl laid a small hand on the taller man's shoulder. In an odd display of the strength belying her small frame, she pulled back only slightly, causing her companion to jerk backwards suddenly.

"Down, Renji," she said softly, coolly, "We wanted to speak to you, Kurosaki Ichigo. Privately." The girl - her name was Rukia, right? - pinned Ichigo with her piercing gaze. Silently, he grumbled to himself about these two throwing his name around like they were doing; it wasn't as if they'd ever introduced themselves to him.

"Could've done that without making asses of yourselves," he replied, staring mutinously at them. Suddenly, and without warning, Rukia's small hand made contact beneath Ichigo's chin, tossing his head back violently into the brick.

"Speak for yourself!" Rukia rebutted, "I have been perfectly polite! It is not my fault that you two act like petulant children!" Ichigo felt his head swim as he pulled it back away from the wall. He could swear there would be an indent from where she'd shoved his head into the bricks. Palming his injured chin gingerly and swearing at the pain in his right shoulder, he cast the nastiest glare he could muster towards the odd couple before him.

"Who's a petulant child?" he yelled in return, "You're the one shoving people's heads into walls!" A second strike came, this time to his stomach, causing him to double over as Rukia removed her foot from his gut. They'd only just met and already Ichigo wanted to punt her off the roof.

"I would like to ask you a few questions," Rukia continued, as if she'd never been interrupted at all, "Specifically, about what you were doing last night." Ichigo felt his heart leap to his throat. Did these two know? They had to know, if they were asking questions about it! But how? They hadn't even spoken to him or Inoue, and he'd kept his eye on her all morning! Renji, for his part, raised a tattooed eyebrow at her as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"I'm the one that needs to stand down?" he muttered incredulously, "That's one helluva interrogation technique, Rukia." Rukia turned back to give Renji a winning smile and a thumbs up.

"It's 'Good Cop, Bad Cop'!" she said enthusiastically, "I even practiced in the bathroom this morning!" Ichigo stared in disbelief at the bizarre interlude; these two were nuttier than a kilo of fruitcake, weren't they?

"Shouldn't that be 'Bad Cop, Worse Cop'?" Ichigo retorted, earning a glare from Rukia as he stood back up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "Anyway, thanks for asking, but I spent last night with my dad, patching Inoue's dog bite up. You can ask her if you don't believe me." Ichigo almost swore as the words left his mouth. Judging from their expressions, and the snort escaping from Renji's lips, neither of them believed him.

"A 'dog bite'," Renji scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Rukia raised an eyebrow, but kept her attention focused on Ichigo.

"Look, Ichigo," Rukia spoke, her tone stern and serious now, "Lying to us is pointless. We saw the whole thing." Ichigo's eyes flew open at that statement. How the hell could they have seen it? No one else was in that alley! And did that mean these two were actually demons, as well? Ichigo silently cursed a blue streak.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied instinctively, a bead of sweat trailing down his brow, "Whoever you saw, it wasn't me." He knew denying it was probably pointless, but admitting the truth could be more devastating. God only knew what would happen to his family if his little problem were discovered.

"Really?" Rukia shot back coolly, "Then I suppose we imagined those ronin and that alleyway that looked like an abattoir when you were done with them. And you running out of it, holding Inoue." Ichigo felt pinned down. He didn't know what these two were after, but they had him by the proverbial balls.

"You really _were_ imagining things if you think I know any samurai," he replied, picking out the one thing that had stuck out in Rukia's accusations. He tried to keep his face level as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, scowling. For his part, Renji looked like he was developing a headache.

"Not samurai, you dumbass," he grumbled, shaking his head, "Ronin! Masterless demons that don't belong to any house or family! Augh, everyone knows this, why am I even explaining it to you?" Ichigo's scowl deepened; he knew when he was being insulted.

"How the hell would I know that?" Ichigo yelled back, "I'm not a demon! I'm just as human as everyone else in this school!" Rukia crossed her own arms in response.

"Are you really?" she asked, fixing him with that intense stare again. Something with the way she asked it told Ichigo that she already knew the answer and expected him to know it as well. "Tell me," she continued, "Have you even looked in the mirror this morning?"

"I don't pay attention to stuff like that," he responded swiftly. Ichigo's brows knitted together in confusion; what was she talking about? Was there something on his face he hadn't noticed? Inoue _had_ looked as if there was something odd about him before they went to class this morning, hadn't she? And what did any of this have to do with their current conversation? Rukia pointed a slender finger up towards his face.

"Your eyes are red and practically glowing right now," she stated plainly, "If you were wearing an inhibitor, this would not be a problem. But I can clearly see that you're agitated and would like to fight." This had actually managed to take Ichigo off guard; he hadn't noticed his eyes were a different color. Not that they were too far off to begin with, but red definitely wasn't a normal color by any stretch of the imagination.

"Yeah, I'd love nothing more than kicking both your asses right now," Ichigo retorted, scowling to hide his confusion, "But lunch is only half an hour, and I'm hungry. So if you're done playing twenty questions..." Before he could finish, however, Renji planted a hand beside his head on the wall behind him, effectively caging him as he drew dangerously close to Ichigo's face.

"Not yet, we aren't," he said in a low voice, "We wanna know about that girl." Ichigo's eyes narrowed to slits; he was certain he could feel them burning now. Was that what Rukia was saying about his eyes? He certainly _felt_ like decking Renji right now.

"You don't need to know anything about Inoue," he nearly spat, "Stay away from her." Renji's red eyes seemed to bore into him, almost as if he was looking for something.

"You do that to her neck?" Renji pressed on, ignoring Ichigo's protests, "She your Mark?" Even though he couldn't make out what Renji was even talking about, something in Ichigo's blood leapt at the last comment. Perhaps it was a stray heartbeat; perhaps he imagined it. Either way, he didn't like being accused of causing such grievous damage to such an innocent girl.

"_What?_ Why the hell would you even think that?" Ichigo shot back, his blood beginning to pump faster, "Do I _seem_ like the kind of guy that goes around tearing girls' throats out?" As if to make the entire scene more ridiculous, Ichigo could swear he saw the answer written on both their faces: Yes, you do.

"Are you the 'kind of guy' that kills four Ronin for no reason?" Rukia retorted from behind Renji. Ichigo pushed away from the wall, almost butting heads with Renji in his fury.

"_It wasn't for no reason!_" he screamed, a second too late to stop himself, "S-Shit!" As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized exactly what he'd admitted to; and from the way the eyes of the pair in front of him were fixated on him, he knew they had, too. Renji backed up a bit, a feral grin stretching across his face. One hand went to the goggles that rested on his forehead.

"He's rabid!" the redhead exclaimed gleefully. It was yet another thing Ichigo couldn't understand; one more thing to push him towards the edge.

"What the hell does that even mean?" he demanded, nearly coming at Renji before he stopped himself. Renji's wicked smile didn't waver.

"May I?" Renji asked Rukia, who simply turned her head away.

"So violent," she sniffed, "You know our orders." Ichigo's anger flickered for a moment; _now_ what were they talking about? What orders?

"Right, right," Renji replied evenly before turning back to Ichigo, "Kurosaki Ichigo! For the sin of murdering your own kind and of leaving your Mark on a human, in accordance with the laws of the Demon Realm, the House of Pride has hereby authorized its Lieutenant, Abarai Renji, to carry out your execution!" Before Ichigo could protest, Renji pulled the goggles loose from his forehead, unleashing a flurry of smoke and a burst of white light. Blinking away the dust in his eyes, Ichigo's vision refocused on the demon before him.

Physically, Renji hadn't changed much, if at all. His eyes and hair were still that impossible red, if perhaps a bit brighter. Now, though, they seemed to glow with a sinister light. No, his clothing was what had really changed. Instead of his school uniform he now wore a black hakama and a cream-colored fur mantle clasped with the teeth of a wild animal slung about his shoulders. Ichigo could've sworn the shoulder guards fitted over it were even actually skulls. He could also see the black tattoos extending down from Renji's eyebrows and covering his neck and broad chest. The most frightening part of it all, though, was the wicked blade Renji held in his right hand; it was the length of a regular katana, but wider and with protrusions that curved keenly backwards. Ichigo's eyes widened. If this was exactly what had happened to him the previous night, then he too really could be...

"Don't make this hard on yourself," Renji smirked, readying himself for a strike, "Just stay still and it'll all be over soon." Ichigo's mind snapped back to the demon before him. He'd said 'execution'! There was no way he'd let that happen! Without further warning, Renji raised his hand, his sword coming disjointed and snaking out towards Ichigo like whip, the curved protrusions each forming their own link in the sword-chain. Just a second ahead of the blade, Ichigo rolled away, the steel connecting with the brick wall behind him instead.

"You're making a mistake!" he screamed, feeling white-hot fury roil within his blood. If he could just remember what he'd done last night, how he'd called forth that nodachi, that power - if he could just remember! It occurred to him as debris from the now-scarred wall pelted him that he'd been beaten nearly to death to use it the first time. When faced with the possibility of trying _that_ a second time, he quickly went about thinking of other ways to possibly call that power out again.

"I don't think so, criminal!" Renji shouted back, grinning. The taller man launched himself into the air, his mantle flapping wildly above him as he hurtled towards Ichigo like a meteor. The scowling teenager barely had time to lift his arms to shield his face as Renji's segmented sword slammed into him, splitting the skin on his left forearms in one clean, red line. Burning pain shot up his arm, causing Ichigo to roar in agony and anger. For his part, Renji looked nonplussed as his extended sword clattered to the school roof along with several splatters of blood from Ichigo's arm.

"You actually blocked that?" he asked, no small measure of disbelief showing in his voice, "Too bad. I bet if you'd had a real upbringing, you'd be pretty strong. Shame we'll never find out, huh?" Ichigo barely heard what he was saying. He was sure Renji'd just insulted his parents somehow, but the blood and rage thundering in his ears had left him almost deaf and he was sure he'd be unable to form anything other than angry howls at this point anyway. Eyes flashing with fury, he lost sight of anything other than Renji's face, flying towards it faster than he thought he'd ever moved in his life. His right fist was raised to strike; lack of a sword be damned, last night's wounds be damned, he was going to wipe the smug grin off that bastard's face. Wait... he was so close... why was Renji still smiling?

Before Ichigo could make contact with Renji's jaw, something stopped him short. The anger melted from his face as he hazily wondered why his punch hadn't landed yet. It was then that he felt something warm running down his stomach. Confused, Ichigo looked down to see that serrated sword protruding from his torn school shirt. A large, crimson flower was beginning to bloom around it on the white fabric. The searing hot pain washed over Ichigo like a wave then, almost drowning him. How far back was that sword in his midsection? When had he retracted it to form a solid blade again? Ichigo hadn't noticed the links clanking back together while he was running; he hadn't noticed much of anything around him at that point, really. He tried to form words, any words, but failed as his mouth filled with his own hot, frothing blood.

Renji's sword freed itself with a sharp yank, causing Ichigo to gasp and jerk forward. Before he could lose his balance, though, Renji's foot slammed into his back, knocking him face-first into the concrete of the school roof and pinning him there. As the cold roof scraped against his cheek, Ichigo realized fuzzily that he was now lying in the middle of a warm pool; his own blood was spreading quickly beneath him, pain sending arcs of fire from his ribcage out toward the rest of his body. He was vaguely aware of the shadow of a sword coming to rest squarely across the back of his head. Was that Renji, too?

"It's over." He heard Renji say it as though he were underwater. Before the expected blow came, though, he heard the sound of a bell. It was loud and hazy, but still sounded as if it were coming from very far away. Ichigo vaguely recognized it as the school's bell, signaling that lunch was now over.

Renji froze, poised to bring his sword down and deliver the blow that would separate Ichigo's head from his shoulders. Red eyes widening, he turned to Rukia, who had been observing the carnage from several feet away. She folded her arms over her petite frame, giving Renji an impassive stare.

"Leave him there," she said coolly, "We're already late getting back to class, and we have appearances to maintain." With a flick of her wrist, she tossed Renji's sleek, silver goggles in his direction. He caught them deftly and set about situating them on his head again.

"This is so sloppy," he grumbled, pushing his widow's peak back with the silver and glass eyepiece, "I don't like leaving him like this." As soon as the goggles were in place, a white light seemed to emanate from them. In a flash, Renji was once again dressed in his clean school uniform, his sword having vanished into thin air.

"You're just bloodthirsty," Rukia scoffed, walking towards the door that led downstairs, "He will bleed out in a few minutes, anyway. We can come collect the body after school." Renji snorted, waiting a second too long to follow her.

"Oi, that's not fair!" he protested, having to run to the door as she went through, not bothering to hold it for him, "I'm just doing my job! Geez, this assignment sucks. Why do _we_ have to do this anyway?"

"Because we look the youngest," she replied simply, "Now, stop complaining. It's unbecoming of your status." Their footsteps retreated down the stairs, echoing faintly as they faded away.

The door leading to the stairway clattered shut behind the two demons, leaving Ichigo laying face down on the roof by himself. His eyes were half-lidded, mostly unaware of anything going on about him. Sure, he heard Rukia and Renji leave. He might have even registered a word or two they were saying, feeling something like vague relief that the bell had rang when it did. But beyond that, his thoughts were faint and jumbled, more concerned about his sudden difficulty breathing than anything else.

'What's wrong with me?' Ichigo wondered to himself, no longer strong enough to actually speak. His chest was burning and he seemed unable to breathe deeply, as though there was a weight pressing him down. Then, as suddenly as Renji and Rukia's voices had stopped, another voice wandered into his field of consciousness accompanied by the sound of wood clacking against concrete.

"Hyuuuuuuu!" it said in something akin to fascination, "I thought those two were never going to leave! You're in pretty bad shape, aren't you?" Ichigo vaguely wondered if the man was talking to him, then sluggishly wondered just how stupid he'd have to be to even ask that.

'Of course I'm in bad shape,' Ichigo thought dully. Suddenly, he felt himself being rolled onto his back and his shirt being pulled apart. Even being as overcast as it was, he could make out two fuzzy figures standing over him and peering down, the gray sunlight making it difficult to make out any of their features.

"My, oh my!" the cheerful man continued as Ichigo's eyes slid shut to shield them from the sunlight, "We'll have to work fast." He felt himself suddenly being lifted by a pair of strong arms, the feeling of being suspended in midair reminding him vaguely of floating in the ocean. As a small breeze hit his face and he realized he was being held against a broad chest, his mind finally went dark and slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Orihime glanced up at the classroom's clock impatiently. It was two minutes until the three o'clock bell would ring, signaling the end of the school day. Her eyes hadn't strayed far from that clock since the lunch hour ended and Kurosaki-kun hadn't returned to the classroom. She'd already entertained several possibilities as to why he had vanished with the two transfer students during lunch and never made his way back to his desk.

Perhaps they were yakuza. The boy certainly looked the part, with his tattoos and ponytail, but what about his black-haired companion? Was she a yakuza princess, and he her bodyguard? What if Kurosaki-kun had crossed their family by taking out a bad loan and they'd left at lunch to exact their payment?

Orihime chewed her pencil in frustrated worry. No, that couldn't be it; Kurosaki-kun's family seemed to be doing well, so it had to be something else. Perhaps the two were alien scouts, sent to collect interesting specimens for an alien version of Noah's Ark. Now that the aliens had Kurosaki-kun, surely they were already speeding away in their spaceship, back to Alpha Centauri! Even Orihime had to admit that that one was a bit far-fetched - everyone knew the Grays liked to collect humans, and they were obviously from Rigel and not Alpha Centauri. It certainly wasn't helping lighten the heavy stone of worry that had settled deep in the pit of her stomach, either way.

Finally, the afternoon bell rang, releasing her from the confines of her overactive imagination and allowing her to breathe a little easier. Now she could simply visit Kurosaki-kun's house and check on him while she was there; it wouldn't be odd at all, since she still had her wound and Kurosaki-san _had_ asked her to stop by so he could check on it.

She packed her school bag quickly, dodging Chizuru-chan's amorous hands and politely declining Tatsuki-chan's offer to walk her home. Orihime realized sadly that no matter what, she couldn't tell Tatsuki-chan about what had happened the night before; she had made Kurosaki-kun that promise, after all, and who knew if it would put her in danger or not. With that thought in mind, she ducked out of the classroom and down the school steps.

The weather was much like the previous day's, frosty and gray, causing Orihime to stare into the sky, wondering if it might snow today. She shivered, recalling that the last time she'd been in her apartment, yesterday morning, she'd forgotten to grab a jacket or sweater in her haste and was now paying for it the second day in a row. She glanced around at the bare trees, hoping they'd bud and fill out with leaves soon, signaling the relief that would come with a proper spring.

Orihime allowed her feet to guide her towards the clinic run by Kurosaki-kun's father. She was quietly surprised to find that she remembered just how to get there; it wasn't far from her own apartment or the school, really, and she'd been there before if she was remembering properly. That had been the day Nii-sama had had his accident, hadn't it? Kurosaki-san was the doctor that had treated him then, too, wasn't he?

Shaking her head clear of such depressing thoughts, Orihime looked down the road towards the clinic. To her surprise, she saw a tall figure ahead of her on the sidewalk leading to the Kurosaki family's door. He had to have been at least a full thirty centimeters taller than her, with messy brown hair that fell into his face, a slight tan, and a muscular frame highlighted by the tight, bright orange shirt he was wearing. Orihime recognized him instantly.

"Sado-kun!" she called, waving to him as she ran down the sidewalk to catch up with him. He must have taken a shortcut from school to get here so fast, she reckoned. It did make sense; he and Kurosaki-kun had been close since junior high, hadn't they? The tall Mexican turned to regard her as she ran up to him, panting.

"Were you looking for Kurosaki-kun, too?" Orihime asked, looking up at him from beneath her bangs, which had been securely tucked behind her ears. She hadn't dared remove her hairpins after putting them in first thing that morning.

"Mmm," the giant affirmed with a nod of his head. Orihime smiled softly to herself; Sado-kun was also worried about him, which meant she wasn't crazy. That might not have been a good thing, though; if Sado-kun was also worried, that might mean something really bad had happened.

"We can go ask together, then," she said, putting a smile firmly on her face as she looked up at him, "And I have to see Kurosaki-san about my bandages, anyway." The taller man nodded down at Orhime as they began moving towards the clinic in step.

It was only a few more steps to the gate, and within the minute, they were standing in the lobby of the small clinic, the bells on the glass door tinkling behind them. They only had to wait a few seconds before Ichigo's blonde sister, Yuzu, poked her head from around a corner.

"Daddy!" she called over her shoulder, "Orihime-chan and Sado-kun are here!" There was silence for a second before a set of heavy footsteps came barreling up behind Yuzu. Isshin stopped short, poking his head around the corner just above his daughter's.

"Yuzu, she came back!" he said in a stage whisper, no small amount of delight in his voice, "Daddy might have another daughter soon after all!" Of course, Orihime and Sado heard every word. For her part, Orihime became keenly aware of a warm blush spreading across her cheeks.

"A-Ahh, g-good afternoon, Kurosaki-san!" she pressed on, smiling awkwardly at the attention as he emerged from around the corner, "Sado-kun and I were just wondering if you'd seen Kurosaki-kun. He left school at lunch and we haven't seen him since..." Isshin scratched at the stubble on his chin as he looked up at the ceiling, a small look of confusion flickering across his face before being replaced again by a feigned look of disinterest.

"Oh, that," he said, waving his other hand dismissively, "I had him go over to his aunt's. She's sick and needs some help for a few days." Yuzu seemed genuinely confused.

"But Daddy, we don't ha-" She stopped short as her father's hand clamped over her mouth.

"Now, Yuzu, I know you worry about your brother's attendance record, but he hasn't missed a day of school this year, so I don't think he'll get in trouble with the teachers!" Orihime blinked. Isshin made it sound so natural, but she was sure there was something she was missing here.

"O-Oh," Orihime answered, not wanting to press the issue. If Isshin was confident Ichigo was okay, then surely he was. "W-Well, you did say to come back so you could check on my bandages, right?" Isshin's smile brightened again as he waved Orihime back towards the examining room.

"Of course! Right this way, and we'll see how it's doing." As Orihime was led towards the back of the clinic, Sado turned to go with a wave. "Ah, not so fast," Isshin called over his shoulder, "When I'm done with this, I have a favor I need to ask you, Sado-kun." The tall teenager raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing, nodding his assent and staying put.

Orihime, for her part, followed Isshin back towards the exam room she'd been placed in the previous night. Everything looked just as clean and neat as she'd remembered it; the cot was made, the instruments put away, the chairs rearranged.

"Hop up on the table there, and I'll take your bandages off," Isshin said, busying himself with pulling a pair of rubber gloves out of the cabinet above the sink. Orihime placed her hands on the exam table, pushing herself off the floor and seating herself on the crinkly paper covering. In short order, her black-haired doctor pulled a chair over in much the same manner his son had done the night before and began putting his gloves on.

"Does it hurt at all?" he asked, reaching up and untaping the edge of the bandage. Orihime fought the urge to shake her head.

"No! It's really not hurt since I woke up this morning!" she replied enthusiastically. And it was true; the wound hadn't really hurt since she'd woke up that morning. Then again, she reasoned, it might be because she hadn't really been paying attention to it. As Isshin unwound her bandages, though, she noticed his eyebrows rise until they were almost touching his hairline.

When the last bandages were free, he turned around to grab a small hand mirror from the counter behind him. He handed it to Orihime with a lopsided grin.

"Take a look," he said, his chest puffing out a bit. Orihime did as she was told, holding the mirror up to her face and neck. What she saw surprised her; as she inspected the skin on her neck with her hands, her mouth formed a small 'o' of astonishment.

"It's gone!" she exclaimed, fingering the place where a scar should have been. Her mind whirled; how could such a grievous wound have vanished overnight? Shouldn't there be at least a scar? Her amber eyes flickered up to see Isshin preen. Could it be that he was some kind of miracle worker? "That's amazing!"

"Thank you, thank you!" he said proudly, brushing his fingernails against his shirt. Orihime brought the mirror to rest in her lap, gazing at the doctor with open admiration.

"Oh, umm... H-How much do I owe you?" she asked sheepishly, "I don't have anything with me right now, b-but my aunt can wire something..." Isshin blinked for a second before grinning broadly again, clapping a large hand on Orihime's shoulder.

"Think nothing of it, Orihime-chan!" he said happily, "We're practically family, right?" Orihime blinked, but gave the taller man a genuine smile as she looked up at him.

"T-Thank you, Kurosaki-san!" she replied, relief filtering through her voice. Ichigo's father was a bit strange, but really, he was a very nice person. "Well, I don't want to be a bother, so..." She hopped off the table, regaining her balance as she hit the floor. The older man watched her with raised eyebrows.

"A word of advice before you go, though," Isshin started, causing Orihime to stop in her motion towards the door, "Don't take those hairpins off in public again. And don't walk home from school by yourself. Alright?" His tone was so serious that it caused Orihime to stare at him quizzically for a moment as she blinked in confusion. Wasn't that what her brother Sora had always told her, too?

"O-Okay," she replied, the confusion diffusing through her voice, "I'll remember, sir." Isshin quickly adopted his familiar, goofy grin again, which Orihime found infinitely preferable to his serious side.

"Send Sado-kun in here for a second, alright?" he asked, smiling "I'll only be a second. Then he can walk you home."

Orihime nodded, smiling and giving the doctor a grateful 'thank you' before heading out into the lobby to send Sado back to see him.


	4. Chapter 4: Inhibited

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 4 - Inhibited

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note:** Again, life has been killing me, but I keep trucking! Part of the reason this chapter took a little longer is because it's a tad longer than the others (for exposition's sake!). So try not to think of it as being late - you're just getting 40% more fic this time!

* * *

The first thing Ichigo noted upon returning to some semblance of consciousness was that he was comfortable - far more comfortable than he remembered being when he passed out. He lay flat on his back, his limbs warm and leaden and reluctant to move. The cold concrete of the school's roof was no longer beneath him; he now lay upon something cushioned, but very firm underneath. His head was likewise supported by a very firm pillow; unfortunately, as he floated back into consciousness, he had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to have a sore neck as soon as he sat up.

The dim lighting in the room flickered against his eyelids, distracting him from any further sleep he might have been tempted to get. Aside from the light, there was also some kind of noise... voices? His brow drew together in a faint crease as he tried to listen to them and make out what they were saying.

"A shredded shoulder, two broken ribs, a punctured lung, a bruised stomach... If it'd been just a fraction to the right, well! _That_ would've been a very unpleasant phone call!"

"Speaking of that, he said the seal was broken? Does he intend you to fix it?"

"No, I suppose not. The other ones held, after all. But he figures we might as well teach him a thing or two since we have the opportunity. Might come in handy."

"As we've already seen."

"Shh, shh! It looks like he's coming to!"

Ichigo listened to the two men speak, somewhat disappointed when their conversation ended abruptly. Perhaps if they'd spoken a bit longer, he could've found out where he was, or what had happened to him...

That was it! He brought a heavy hand to his face, rubbing one of his eyes lazily as he recalled his last memories before losing consciousness. He'd been fighting that red-headed demon, Renji, on top of the school. Except in this case, it had been less of a fight and more of a massacre. Ichigo snorted ruefully; he wasn't accustomed to losing fights. Oddly enough, though, for all the injuries the strange man had just rattled off, his pride stung worse than any physical part of his body. His body...

Ichigo's eyes flew open and his hand shot to his chest as he sat up like a bolt, panting. He clutched at the robe that had been hung loosely over his shoulders, searching for the gash where Renji's sword had split his chest open. He found nothing but soft bandages covering smooth skin and a dull ache where the wound had been. Gingerly, he moved his right arm at the shoulder; the pain was gone there, too.

The fog of sleep clearing from his head, Ichigo began to look about himself. He'd been laid to rest on a small futon, surrounded on four sides by ropes and charms, candles lighted at each corner of the pallet. Even stranger, there appeared to be some sort of pale yellow light coloring the room; at first he thought it must be a filtered lampshade or colored lightbulb, but he couldn't find the source of the colored light. He looked curiously at his slightly discolored hand, opening and closing it as he marveled at the strange atmosphere.

From his left, he heard a man clear his throat. Ichigo turned his head toward the sound, seeing for the first time the owner of one of the voices he'd been hearing while he was still half-asleep. He was barely even middle-aged, with messy blond hair peeking out around his ears from beneath a green-and-white striped hat. Its wide, down-turned brim cast his eyes in shadow, rendering only half his face perfectly visible. The half Ichigo could see clearly was turned up in a welcoming grin lined with a five o'clock shadow. As for his clothing, he wore a loose-fitting green outfit and a black haori with white diamonds along the hem, that overall gave the messy impression that the man himself had just rolled out of bed. His feet were tucked solidly beneath his bottom as though he'd been waiting patiently for Ichigo to finally awaken.

Ichigo took a quick glance around the room. Hadn't there been two voices while he was out? All that was here now was this scruffy-looking man and a black cat.

"Good morning, Kurosaki Ichigo!" the cheerful-looking man finally said, snapping open a paper folding fan and causing Ichigo to jump a bit, "Well, technically, it's the evening, but the sentiment stands." Ichigo favored him with a confused scowl. About a thousand questions were running through his mind, but he decided to go with the obvious one first.

"Who're you?" he finally responded, openly staring at the man while he leaned his forehead into the palm of his hand. The other man's cheerfulness was a bit grating while he was still recovering his senses.

"Just a simple shopkeeper!" the man gave back happily, "I'm Urahara Kisuke, and you're in my shop." A shop? Of all places, why would he be in a shop? Ichigo tried to make sense of it; what kind of shopkeeper dragged dying teenagers into a back room and healed them? The infuriatingly smiley kind, he supposed.

"I was dying," Ichigo observed stoically before turning back to Urahara, "You saved me, didn't you? Why?" It wasn't every day that strange men in even stranger hats happened upon one's dying carcass and nursed him back to health, after all.

"So harsh!" Urahara responded, feigning hurt, "Is this how you show gratitude? Ahh, well..." For a second, Ichigo almost thought he saw the cat beside Urahara roll its eyes as it sat back on its haunches and began to bathe one of its front paws.

"Okay, _thank you_," Ichigo said automatically, as if trying to get it out of the way, "So, why am I here?" Urahara slapped his fan against the palm of his hand, snapping it shut.

"I'm glad you asked, Kurosaki-san!" he chirped, "You're here to be trained, of course!" Ichigo stared at him openly then, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock.

"Trained?" he parroted mindlessly, "Trained for _what_?" He was starting to have a bad feeling about this, as if this had all been planned out ahead of time without anyone telling him.

"Well, you're a demon, aren't you?" Urahara said, almost off-handedly. Even though his voice was light and nonchalant as he said it, Ichigo noticed there was a hard undercurrent to his gaze. "To be honest, you're way behind other demons your age, so we're going to have to start with the basics, but I'm sure you've got a lot of potential!"

Ichigo's eye started to twitch. He didn't know what was more irritating: the fact that people kept referring to him as a demon, or the fact that he was apparently way behind the rest of the demon population. If they were going to call him one, they least they could do was _not_ make him feel developmentally challenged.

"Look," Ichigo mumbled between his teeth, "I'm grateful you saved my life and all, but really, I'm not a demon. You've got the wrong guy." He put a hand to the futon upon which he laid and began to stand. Before he could really move from his position, though, a wave of lightheadedness passed over him, causing him to abandon that course of action.

"Ah ah ah," the blond man chided, "I don't advise getting up just yet. You lost quite a bit of blood and it hasn't all been replaced yet. But no, we don't have the wrong person at all. You _are_ Kurosaki Ichigo, aren't you?" Ichigo cradled his head with the palm of his hand, glowering at Urahara.

"Yeah, I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," he said coolly, "But I'm human." Suddenly, to his astonishment, the black cat that had been washing itself beside Urahara moved forward, pinning him with its yellow gaze.

"You're _stubborn_, at the very least," the cat began to speak, causing Ichigo to gape in astonishment, "But you _are_ a demon. Look at the facts subjectively. Surely even you know something's not quite human about you." The cat's voice was firm and masculine. Ichigo realized with a start that this was the other voice he'd heard through his earlier daze. He'd heard of familiars before, but this was ridiculous; were they actually supposed to talk? Either way, these two knew more about him than he was really comfortable with.

"Okay," he cautiously conceded, "Let's say some weird stuff _has_ been happening to me over the past few days. What about it? What does it have to do with anything?" Urahara and his cat exchanged a look.

"Well, you could start by telling us how it started," Urahara said, turning back to him, "It'll help us decide the best course of action to take. I have a feeling that lieutenant back there had a few of his facts mixed up." Ichigo groaned, his face meeting the palm of his hand.

"You heard that?" Urahara's grin widened.

"Every word!" the shopkeeper said, perhaps a bit too happily for having just admitted he'd been eavesdropping.

"No one else was even there, but it seems like the whole damn town knows!" Ichigo groused to no one in particular, "Next thing you know, Dad'll pop up and congratulate me on the kills or something!" Ichigo couldn't see it, but he could swear Urahara raised an eyebrow under his hat.

"Oh, so that part was true!" he observed, a hint of mischief in his voice, "Well, at least you _do_ have some potential!" There was a pause as Ichigo stared at the older man. He made it sound like such a _good_ thing. "What I mean is, you fought four and made it out alive with no training. That's a good start." Ichigo snorted and rolled his eyes.

"What about the other part? The part about the girl?" Urahara asked, his voice suddenly turning serious. Ichigo looked curiously over at him. Why did everyone seem to think he was the one who'd injured Inoue?

"No," Ichigo replied, his expression growing serious, "The guys I fought, I caught them in the act. Their leader was attacking her. The other three jumped me and the next thing I knew, I was tearing through them." Urahara looked thoughtful for a second, as though he recognized something.

"That must've been what caused it to break," he said, more for his own benefit than Ichigo's. He hated that he was being kept in the dark about so much. At the same time, he recalled the beating he'd gotten from those three thugs and how it had felt like something within him, something indeterminable, had broken. After that break, he'd felt the gush of power that had led him to plow through his opponents like a whirlwind.

"Ah well," Urahara finally said, waving his closed fan as he smiled disarmingly, "That's not important right now. What _is_ important is that you've now got potential to realize!" Ichigo looked at Urahara with his eyebrow raised.

"You know, I'd really like to know what the hell is going on right now," Ichigo monotoned, casting a flat look towards the smiling blond man beside his futon.

"Right, right!" Urahara replied cheerily, "As I said before, Yoruichi and I are going to be your teachers from now on! Won't that be fun?" The black cat flicked his tail as Ichigo stared quizzically at him.

"You and your... familiar?" he asked incredulously. To be sure, he wasn't quite certain what the things did beyond accompanying their demonic masters. In any case, Urahara seemed to beam at him while the cat looked just as bored as any other cat throughout history.

"Exactly right! Good eye!" the older man said enthusiastically, "I apologize for not introducing you sooner. Kurosaki-san, this is my familiar, Yoruichi. Yoruichi will be instructing you in demonic history and lore. As for myself, I'll personally instruct you on how to handle your demonic abilities." Ichigo got the feeling he was going to have to decipher the evasive man's words.

"So... Remedial classes and teaching me how to fight?" He wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not. He wasn't slow by any stretch of the imagination, and he'd been getting in scuffles for years. For his part, Urahara looked as though he'd deflated a bit at that observation.

"Err, in so many words, yes!" he confirmed sheepishly, "Other demons begin training at a young age, so you've missed quite a lot." Ichigo sighed, defeated. It looked like there was no way he would get out of this.

"When do we start?" Ichigo asked reluctantly. At that, Urahara smiled and began to stand.

"I'm glad you asked!" he chirped, the happy facade beginning to grate on Ichigo a bit more, "We'll start first thing in the morning. You still need to stay in that healing barrier a while longer to regain your strength. Until then, Ururu can bring you some dinner." Ichigo almost asked to whom he was referring, but thought better of it; he had more pressing questions for him.

"Wait," Ichigo asked, looking up at the older man, "How long is this gonna take? My family will miss me." Urahara quirked an eyebrow at that, as if Ichigo had just said something odd.

"No," he replied evenly, "You shouldn't worry about that. We've already given them a suitable cover story." Ichigo wondered if there was something he'd missed. Either way, that was sufficient for now. After pausing for a few moments, he spoke again.

"And Inoue?" he said reluctantly, "She needs someone to look after her." This seemed to pique Urahara's interest, as well. Ichigo groaned inwardly; that girl really was too popular for her own good if even shady shopkeepers were taking an interest in her. Finally, Urahara broke into a wide - and somewhat unsettling, in Ichigo's opinion - grin.

"Oh, she's been provided for, as well," he finally answered, "Really, there's nothing for you to worry about."

"An answer like that would make me worry _more_," he retorted somewhat sourly. Urahara flicked open his paper fan to hide what Ichigo presumed was a snicker.

"That's very sweet of you, Kurosaki-san," Urahara offered, "But she'll be fine." That made Ichigo even more frustrated; just what exactly was this old man implying?

"Sweet, my ass," he grumbled under his breath, grabbing his pillow and considering chucking it at Urahara. Before he could put thought into action, though, Urahara and his cat slipped around the door frame, black haori flapping behind him as he went.

"Rest up," he called from the hallway, "You have a big day ahead tomorrow."

* * *

Ichigo was unimpressed with Urahara's idea of a 'big day'. He'd been sent to a cavernous underground training room that resembled little more than a barren desert and given a folding desk and a rolling chalkboard by the black cat. Ichigo figured the desert part made sense, at least; if Urahara was going to teach him to use his abilities, he'd need open space without worrying about collateral damage.

But it was the chalkboard and his feline teacher that was confounding him. He stared at it, vaguely wondering how a cat would even write with chalk anyway, but sure enough, when it was rolled out, it already had writing on it. Maybe Urahara had written on it for him? Either way, he read the writing scratched onto the green slate. It was a list of the seven deadly sins.

"You should take notes," the cat said, pinning him with his yellow gaze, "You'll probably have to refer back to this in the future." Ichigo barely suppressed a snort.

"Is it really that much information?" he asked derisively. The cat seemed to roll its eyes.

"Considering you know less than a five year old demon child?" Yoruichi replied bluntly, causing Ichigo to bristle, "Today, we'll be starting with the basics of noble demon society. If you ever intend to be anything, you'll need to know this." Ichigo scowled and propped his head against his hand, tapping his pencil against the notepad he'd been provided with. He was sure the cat was exaggerating; it couldn't be that different from human society, could it?

Besides, what did the cat mean, 'ever intend to be anything'? He was going to graduate high school, go to college, and get a normal job, just like his classmates. Hell, he might even help his old man out at the clinic, if all else failed. Ichigo had no intention of staying mixed up with these people longer than he had to, demonic ability or not. Either way, he supposed he'd have to get through this before anything else.

"Fine, fine," he finally sighed, giving his attention over to the cat in front of him.

"We'll start with this," his teacher said, motioning to the blackboard with his tail, "Can you tell me what this is?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow; was the cat toying with him?

"The seven deadly sins," he droned back, "So what?" He could've sworn that cat snorted.

"That's what humans call them," the cat shot back, "In reality, these are the Seven Noble Houses of Hell." Ichigo could feel the confusion filtering into a scowl on his face. Renji had mentioned some kind of house, hadn't he? That cat's infuriatingly smug look didn't help matters any. However, he noticed that look change after several seconds.

"Are you taking notes?" the cat asked, looking for all the world like a dangerous predator. Ichigo lifted his chin from his hand, somewhat startled, and began scribbling on the paper before him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. The cat's tail twitched as he went back to pacing before the blackboard.

"To continue," Yoruichi started again, "Every member of the demonic nobility belongs to one of these seven houses. Usually, their personality dictates which house they belong to. We'll begin with the House of Pride." Ichigo scratched the notes down on his paper as Yoruichi spoke.

"As you can imagine, the defining personality trait belonging to this house is pride," Yoruichi continued, "Collectively, demons of Pride are known as Superbia. Singularly, they are called Superbus. They're usually reserved and aloof and have a very refined air about them. They're natural-born leaders, and it's not uncommon to find them in charge of things." Ichigo recalled that Renji had said he was from the House of Pride; somehow, those traits didn't seem to fit him at all.

"That's it?" he asked, disbelief in his voice, "How the hell am I supposed to recognize that?" The cat seemed to roll its eyes.

"You won't always recognize them on sight, or even from being around them," Yoruichi responded, as though this should have been patently obvious, "In fact, it's entirely possible for a demon to hide his or her alignment altogether, if they so wish. But you're getting ahead of me." Ichigo huffed and sat back in his chair.

"Next are demons of Lust," Yoruichi continued, ignoring his student's scowl, "Males of this house are known as Incubi, while females are called Succubi. The singular of that is Incubus and Succubus, of course. Not surprisingly, these seem to be the ones humans most commonly know about. Because so many different kinds of people can be considered attractive, these demons can be notoriously difficult to identify." Ichigo jotted the description down; he found his mind wandering and conjuring up an image of his red-headed, bespectacled classmate and her wandering hands. Well, at least this house would be easy to remember.

"Following that, we have demons of Gluttony," the cat went on, "Rather simply, these demons are known as Gluttons. As you would expect, most have a large frame. This doesn't necessarily mean they're out of shape, though; a great many of them pack quite a wallop." Ichigo couldn't help but picture a sumo wrestler as he took notes.

"Then there are the demons of Sloth. Collectively, these demons are known as Acedia; singularly, they're Acedians. They often look tired or sick or have a general air of malaise about them." Ichigo thought vaguely that these would probably be some of the easiest demons to take in a fight. Maybe if he had to fight one, he'd get a chance to find out.

"Next are the Leavites, demons of Envy. Because pride can be described as a kind of dominance, and envy as the desire for dominance, these two alignments are often at odds with each other. Some of the most competitive demons come from this house." A vague sense of recognition flitted across Ichigo's consciousness; there was something about that description that seemed familiar to him. He pushed it to the back of his mind while the familiar continued.

"Sixth, we have the demons of Greed, the Mammon. As you might imagine, these demons tend to amass things that interest them: wealth, knowledge, skills, lackeys, power. Like the Superbia, they too tend to rise easily to positions of influence." Something about the familiar's voice became a bit warmer at this description, almost nostalgic. Ichigo quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing, opting instead of scratch notes on his paper.

"Finally," the cat said, casting Ichigo a meaningful glance, "There are demons of Wrath, the Wraiths. These demons are marked by the intense desire for battle; some even regard it as outright bloodlust. During the Sengoku era, the Wraiths were prized for their prowess on the battlefield. Today, however, as the need for warriors has diminished, so too has their position in society." Ichigo barely caught the last part, though. Something in his mind had clicked at the feline teacher's words, as though a piece of a puzzle had fallen perfectly into place. Wraith. Somehow, the word and idea resonated with him, causing his heart to speed up and his breath to hitch. As he set his pencil against the paper again, he noticed that his hand had begun to tremble ever so slightly.

"There's one more class of demon, apart from those seven divisions," Yoruichi continued, shifting Ichigo's attention back to the familiar's voice, "That being the Ronin. As I'm sure you've already discovered, these demons don't belong to any noble house or family and have no designation. Perhaps their blood is too thin to qualify for nobility, or their power too frail; either way, they aren't strong enough to enter any of the seven houses. Quite a few are rogues and vagabonds, living outside the laws that bind noble demons." Ichigo felt his teeth grind as Yoruichi described them; the memories of the four ronin in the alleyway flooded his mind unbidden, almost distracting him from writing the information into his notes.

"Do you have any questions?" the cat asked abruptly. Ichigo finished writing and put his pencil down, looking over the notes he'd taken.

"So," he said, his words coming slowly, thoughtfully, "This information is helpful and all, but... what practical use does it have? I mean, do these 'designations' or whatever actually do anything other than give us names to call the demons?" As far as Ichigo could see, this information was nice, but fairly useless.

"That's our next lesson," the cat replied, ears flicking. Ichigo flipped to the next sheet of paper in his notebook, a bored look on his face.

"A demon's designation not only tells us a bit about their personality," Yoruichi continued, seemingly ignoring his pupil as he spoke, "It tells us how they acquire and store their demonic power; in some cases, it might even give you a clue as to their weakness. If you think about it, the things they draw power from should be simple enough to figure out, depending on their type. Would you like to give it a shot?" With that, the cat turned back to Ichigo, fixing him with his yellow feline gaze.

"Lust demons probably get their power from sex," he mumbled, his face coloring. He wouldn't have even gone for that one except that it was the most obvious one of all. Either way, Yoruichi sniffed and seemed to roll his eyes.

"Of course they do," the cat responded, "That one was easy enough. The rest may be more difficult."

"Demons of Sloth, as the word implies, gain their power by sleeping and resting." The question that had been itching at Ichigo's mind from before finally made its way to his lips.

"So does that mean they're weak or something?" he asked unbidden. That caused Yoruichi to turn sharply towards him, his look turning cool.

"Don't make that mistake," Yoruichi snapped, "No one classification of demon is any weaker than the others. Finding yourself on the wrong side of an angry Acedian can be just as bad as facing down a Wraith or a Leavite. The reason they rest so much isn't because they're weak or lazy; it's because they have the ability to expend a lot of power at once." Ichigo looked at his paper, casting his eyes downward. As little as he liked his teacher, the reprimand _had_ certainly been humbling.

"Sorry, Sensei," he mumbled, not meeting the cat's eyes. For a second, Yoruichi looked a bit startled; it passed quickly as he regained his former smug air.

"Don't be," the cat replied, "It's a rookie mistake." With that, Yoruichi went right back to the topic at hand, as though he'd never been interrupted.

"Now that we've taken care of the easy ones, let's get into some of the harder houses to grasp. In alignment with their cardinal sin, the demons of Pride draw their energy from their dominance and air of control; in short, from their sense of pride. Power lends itself to greater power. The obvious inverse of this would be something that breaks pride or humbles; hence what I meant by seeing the weakness held within each designation." Ichigo's mind flashed to the image of the short, black-haired girl from earlier jamming his head into a wall with her fist. Well, that certainly made sense.

"Demons of Envy, on the other hand, merely need to compete for dominance. Since the feeling of envy stems from perceiving a lack within oneself, demons of this persuasion gain power by competing successfully against others. If you can find the root of their insecurity, it's easy to chip away at their defenses."

"Gluttons aren't as obvious as they seem at first glance. Yes, some can gain power through eating food; some, unfortunately, can take this a step further and use things like material objects, souls, or even the power of other demons to give themselves power."

"Another subtle twist on the sin that spawned them, the Mammon not only gain power by amassing money and valuables, but by amassing anything that interests them. Knowledge, power, influence, friends, lovers, all of these can be sources of power for Greed demons."

Finally, Yoruichi turned back to Ichigo, a shrewd look in his eyes. He finished writing notes and looked up to meet the cat's yellow eyes.

"And how do you think the demons of Wrath gain power, Ichigo?" Yoruichi asked pointedly.

"Through fighting," he answered automatically. Ichigo didn't even have to think about it; the answer rolled right off his tongue, unbidden, as though it was written into his DNA. He started for a second, a bit weirded out that he knew it that easily. After a second, though, his surprise faded, replaced by a dull recognition: this is what he was. He knew it as surely as he knew what color his hair was and what direction the sun came up in the morning. It was instinctive.

"Very good, Ichigo," the cat said, seeming to smile at the words. For a second, the room was quiet.

"Hey," Ichigo finally interrupted, "I have a question." The cat cocked its head to the side, ears flicking.

"Yes?"

"So... These houses," he began, his words coming slowly and thoughtfully, "Do you have to belong to that, ahh... designation to belong to the house?" It was an odd question, but that was the best way he could phrase it. There was something that made him think that the two demons he'd encountered earlier couldn't possibly belong be the same _kind_ of demon.

"No," Yoruichi answered, confirming his suspicion, "Once you attain an official title in the house of your designation, you can either choose to stay there or you can move to another of the main houses or to a private house." The wheels in Ichigo's head turned half a degree. He'd known there was no way Rukia and Renji were the same type. From the descriptions given, he could guess Rukia was a Pride demon - a Superbus. He felt a bit frustrated that even though he'd fought Renji, he couldn't make a good guess as to what he was. His first instinct was to think he was a Wraith, but something told him that didn't exactly fit. Whatever he was, he wasn't originally from the House of Pride.

Once that was cleared up, Ichigo's teacher turned back to his blackboard, pointing out more notes and continuing with the lesson. Suddenly, this stuff seemed much more interesting to him than he ever thought it might.

* * *

"What's this?"

Ichigo held his hands out to catch the studded leather strap Urahara had tossed to him. As he studied it, he realized it was just long enough to fit around his wrist and snap - a plain brown leather wristband with a skull engraved into it. He couldn't quite decide if the design was tacky or... stylish.

"Put it on!" The shopkeeper was making shooing motions with his paper fan, a wide grin on his face. "I picked it out myself!"

Casting the shady blond a skeptical look, Ichigo pulled the leather around his wrist and snapped it. As soon as he heard the metallic 'click' of the snaps, he felt something cool wash over his body, as though he'd walked into an air conditioned room after being in the heat all day. He hadn't even noticed before he put it on that his senses had been on overdrive since that night in the alley; now his eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell seemed to immediately go back to what he considered normal, comfortable, human. His eyes widened as he stared, disbelieving, at the brown leather band in place on his wrist.

"What did it... do?" Ichigo asked, nearly dumbstruck. For his part, Urahara was grinning smugly.

"It's an inhibitor, or a limiter," Urahara said proudly. Ichigo's eyebrows shot up at the word; hadn't Renji and the demon in the alleyway both said something about that?

"Aha, I thought so," Urahara continued, snapping his fan shut, "Do you understand what it is now? From the look on your face, I suspect you have some idea." Ichigo continued to regard the wristband with something akin to wonder.

"I feel... human again," he remarked, turning it this way and that.

"I imagine you do," Urahara remarked, pulling over a cushion and bending his legs beneath him to sit on it, "That's the purpose of an inhibitor. You feel human, you look human; to others, you no longer have a demonic aura that they can sense." Ichigo's brow began to crease as he thought.

"If demons are that much more powerful than humans, why do we need to pretend we are human?" Ichigo asked. The odd contradiction confused him a bit; it wasn't that he wanted to run around oppressing people with his new-found powers or anything, but it really didn't make sense to him. Why hide if you already ran everything?

"Because it's civilized," Urahara replied simply, "Put another way, the longer the demon race spent in the human world, the more their culture was changed by humanity. Besides that, it allows you to go about your business without attracting attention or other demons looking for a fight."

He had definitely attracted attention without one, Ichigo recalled ruefully. An image of Renji came unbidden into his mind. With a start, realization dawned on Ichigo.

"Then those goggles Renji was wearing..." The scene replayed in Ichigo's head. As soon as Renji had removed those goggles, his demon form had materialized! Was this how Ichigo was supposed to access his when he needed it?

"Good eye," Urahara noted, a sly look on his face, "Yes, his goggles were his limiter. You might also have noticed that he was instantly able to use his demonic powers when he took them off." Ichigo nodded; oh, had he ever noticed.

"That's because the inhibitor acts as a dam of sorts," Urahara explained, leaning back on his hand and fanning himself lazily with his paper fan, "While you have it on, it holds back your power, kind of like charging a battery. Once you take it off, you're able to expend that power as you see fit. Others will be able to notice it, too: It's like shouting in a quiet room." Ichigo's eyes narrowed a bit.

"That's why all those people were giving me dirty looks," he grumbled. Aside from Rukia and Renji, he knew two others had been staring oddly at him that morning. At the moment, though, he found himself completely unable to recall their faces. Frustrated, he stared blankly at his new wristband.

"With your pleasant demeanor, I can't imagine anyone giving you dirty looks, Kurosaki-san!" Urahara retorted happily, causing Ichigo to turn and glare in his direction, "But yes, they could most likely sense you." Ichigo snorted before looking back at his wrist.

"So when I take this back off," he started contemplatively, "I'll automatically be able to draw my sword, like Renji did." Urahara cocked his head to the side, giving Ichigo a curious look.

"If you want," the blond replied casually, "I'll show you how to do that, as well. First, though, you need to rest a bit to build up your demonic energy. After that, we'll begin your training."

* * *

Orihime propped her chin in her hands and leaned her elbows on her knees. She'd flopped down on the cold, damp concrete steps of the school to wait for Sado-kun, but as it began to chill her bottom, she wondered if that was really such a good idea.

A week. It had been a whole week since Kurosaki-kun had disappeared. School was dull without him and his scowling face and colorful hair. Every day, Orihime opened the door to the classroom, hoping he'd finally be back at his desk, and every day this week she'd been disappointed. The rest of the day after that moment was spent staring idly at the clock and waiting for it to signal the end of the school day. She had been tempted a few times to check his family's clinic to see if he was back yet, but every time she almost got the gumption to do it, her shyness would hamstring her.

Instead, at the end of every school day, Sado-kun would silently walk her home. He'd done this consistently every day since Kurosaki-kun had disappeared a week before. Now it was Friday, and Orihime found herself absentmindedly wondering if she might ask him if he knew anything. Surely Sado-kun would know when he was coming back, right? They were best friends, weren't they?

Maybe she could ask him when he came back. Different from the other days during the past week, Chad had excused himself as soon as class let out to make a stop at the vending machines before they set out. Orihime had told him she'd wait for him out on the front steps. As she rubbed her legs to warm them, though, she wondered if that had really been such a good idea with the cool weather. Maybe she should start wearing tights under her school skirt again, at least until it got warmer?

Orihime was drawn from her reverie by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs towards her. She looked up, half-expecting to see Chad.

"Good afternoon, Inoue-san," the newcomer called, his voice loud enough to be heard but not quite loud enough to attract anyone else's attention. Orihime smiled kindly at him, not minding the intrusion at all.

"Oh! Good afternoon," she called back sweetly.

"Waiting for someone?" His voice was politely curious. Orihime didn't mind indulging his curiosity at all.

"Oh, yes! Sado-kun is going to get a drink before he walks me home!"

"Ahh. Before you go, do you think you could help me with something?" Orihime lifted her head; this would be a good way to kill time until Sado-kun returned!

"Sure!" she chirped, standing and dusting her skirt off as she followed the young man away from the school.

* * *

In the week he'd been at Urahara's shop, Ichigo had made good use of the underground fighting chamber beneath the store. After learning how to use his limiter and how to draw his sword at will, he'd spent a good deal of time sparring with Urahara. Most of his days were consumed by Yoruichi's lessons, learning about history, bylaws, and demon physiology, so the chance to stretch his legs and exercise was always welcome.

Friday afternoon had been no different. He'd unsnapped his wristband, immediately materializing his black outfit and nodachi in a burst of red light and then spent the following half hour trying to score a hit on Urahara with it. The older man was frustratingly elusive, blocking any blows that Ichigo almost managed to land with his sword-cane. Immediately following those blows, Ichigo would usually find himself face-down on the hard-packed dirt of the training room.

It was after one such blow that Ichigo finally pushed himself off the ground and dove at Urahara with such speed and intensity that he finally, _finally_ managed to almost strike his head. This time, instead of blocking with his sword-cane, Urahara tipped his head to the side, allowing Ichigo's sword to narrowly miss him. As the black blade streaked past his ear, it took Urahara's green and white striped hat with it.

"Yes!" Ichigo hissed, grinning triumphantly. A second too late, he realized that Urahara was grinning now as well. Only now, instead of their normal, placid gray color, his eyes were glowing red. In the second it took Ichigo's mind to process what he'd just seen, he was knocked across the room and flat on his back into a large rock.

Pulling himself out of the rubble and coughing, Ichigo wiped his face and cursed. He looked up to see Urahara sauntering towards him, dusting his hat off before placing it back on his shaggy head. His usual lopsided grin back in place, he extended his cane towards Ichigo as his geta clacked against the dirt.

"Another round for me," he said cheerfully as his student pushed himself up off the ground, sputtering. Before Ichigo could protest, though, he spotted one of Urahara's assistants, a red-haired boy named Jinta, running across the training room towards them. He was out of breath, a scowl on his face, and clutching a rolled up piece of paper tightly.

"What is it, Jinta-kun?" Urahara asked, looking over his shoulder at the boy. The young assistant stopped and placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Once he was satisfied with his breathing again, he extended his arm to Ichigo, shoving the roll of paper into his dirty face.

"Someone _shot this through the store window_!" the boy yelled indignantly, glaring at the paper. Ichigo's eyebrows rose as he took it from him.

"How could they shoot a piece of paper through a window?" he asked absentmindedly, unrolling the note.

"With an arrow, _duh_! Tessai's pissed!" Ichigo held back the urge to punt the boy as his eyes began rapidly scanning the note.

"Language, Jinta-kun," Urahara mumbled, giving the boy a small whack in the shin with his cane. Ichigo ignored them as his eyes widened at the contents of the note.

_Kurosaki Ichigo,_

_If you would like to see your Mark again, you will meet me at the location designated at the bottom of this letter at sundown. If you do not, I cannot guarantee her safety._

At the bottom of the note were directions to a park Ichigo recognized as being close to his school. More troublesome than that, though, was that word Renji had used again - Mark. He realized with a chill what the letter was telling him.

Someone had taken Inoue.


	5. Chapter 5: Uninhibited

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 5 - Uninhibited

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably be updated… incredibly sporadically, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note: **Once again, I apologize for the lengthy absence! It was almost two months this time! But I haven't forgotten this fic! I'll try my best to keep it updated, although I can't promise anything in the way of regularity. Either way, if you're still reading, thank you very much for sticking with me! And thank you for all the reviews! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, although it's not _quite_ what some reviewers guessed it would be.

* * *

"I thought you said she wasn't your Mark?" Urahara said from behind Ichigo's shoulder, causing the younger man to twitch and stifle an urge to punch him in the nose. He hated people reading over his shoulder.

"I don't even know what that _is_!" Ichigo protested, whirling around. Urahara looked genuinely surprised.

"You really don't know?" he asked, scratching his stubbly chin.

"No, I don't!" Ichigo replied, shaking the note, "Although between those two demons and this letter, I get the feeling they're talking about Inoue!" Urahara sighed before turning to Jinta.

"Thank you, Jinta-kun," he said, ushering the boy towards the ladder leading up into the main shop, "Why don't you go help Tessai with the window?" The red-haired boy looked more than a bit put out.

"Aww, no fair!" he whined, "You never let me hear the good stuff!" Urahara raised an eyebrow at that.

"I'll tell you when you're older," he said authoritatively, "Now go." Urahara and Ichigo watched as the boy scurried up the ladder, pouting.

"Well!" Urahara exclaimed after a few more seconds of silence, "I had wanted to wait a while to give you this talk, but it seems to be necessary now!" Ichigo could swear he felt his eye tick; the way the old man said it gave him a very bad feeling.

"What do you mean 'this talk'?" Ichigo said, suspecting the worst. It sounded like something his father would say before launching into some bizarre spiel about storks and special hugging.

"Well, Kurosaki-san, when two demons love each other very much..." Oh lord, it was exactly as bad as it sounded.

"Don't give me that crap!" he yelled, his patience having evaporated, "I want to know why everyone seems to think Inoue is my Mark! Whatever the hell that even is!" Urahara drew the brim of his hat down further over his eyes.

"In all seriousness," he started, scratching his scruffy chin, "It's kind of a complicated topic." Ichigo reigned in his irritation to give Urahara a chance to explain.

"First of all, it's not something you see everyday anymore. Very few demons put Marks on their partners, and those are usually Incubi. It's not really practiced in polite society."

"So it's something deviants do," Ichigo summarized for his teacher, a flat look on his face. He briefly wondered why he was even still surprised by the things people accused him of anymore.

"Exactly so!" Urahara replied, grinning, "It's a sign of ownership and domination. As you've probably guessed, it usually takes the form of a bite mark in a noticeable place, although really, any sort of scar on any part of the body will do." Ichigo sighed, remembering the night in the alley a week ago; the idea of that pack of thugs doing that to Inoue didn't sit well with him.

"And apparently it's a capital crime to give one to a human?" he asked, prompting Urahara to tell him more.

"It is," Urahara's tone became more serious, "Since the most common way to Mark someone is with the mouth, there's a chance the demon will ingest some human blood. And while it doesn't always happen, there's a very high probability the demon may become frenzied with bloodlust from it - it's commonly referred to as becoming rabid."

Ichigo's eyes shot open at that; that was exactly what Renji had said when he attacked him. For his part, Urahara looked somewhat absorbed in what he was saying.

"It's a vestigial trait, from when most demons were primarily foot soldiers and such a state was desirable," he continued, "It especially affects Wraiths. Unfortunately, however, that state is permanent and will usually result in the rabid demon attacking his own comrades, hence the need to put him down before he can do it."

Ichigo nodded in understanding.

"So that's why it's a capital crime," he said with a bit more comprehension in his voice.

"Actually, that's only part of the reason," Urahara said, looking at a particularly interesting spot on the far-away cavern wall, "The other part has to do with the effect it has on humans."

"Effect?" What, was their bite poisonous?

"When a demon Marks another demon that is willing, they receive a great deal of ahh... pleasure from it," Urahara explained, causing Ichigo's eyebrows to roost in his hairline, "If they're unwilling, it simply feels like a normal, albeit painful, bite."

"But when they bite a human?" Ichigo prompted, waiting somewhat impatiently for the next part of the explanation.

"If the human's willing, it's pretty much the same as if they were a demon," the older man said, his eyes shifting beneath his hat, "If they're unwilling, the bite causes something of a paralysis for them." This got Ichigo's attention, more so than anything said thus far.

"I see you understand the implications of that," Urahara said, his tone serious, "It's not something anyone exactly wants to be accused of."

Ichigo felt his blood boil and his teeth clench; was _that_ the reason those punks had bitten Inoue in that alley? They clearly had some seriously nasty plans for her, so it wasn't a stretch to think the bite was part of it. A demon that bit a human that way could do anything they wanted to them, after all...

"Yeah, I'm not keen on the idea myself," he grumbled, holding the note just a bit harder than was absolutely necessary. Urahara fanned himself idly.

"I suppose you'll be going after her, then?" he asked, his tone as light and nonchalant as it ever was.

* * *

The streetlights were just beginning to flicker to life as Ichigo's shoes pounded against the dilapidated, broken concrete sidewalk, the noise announcing his presence to anyone within earshot. Not that he cared much; his one thought was getting to that park before it was too late.

'Could not guarantee her safety,' he thought back to himself with a sneer. Sure, it was probably an idle threat, something to make him spring into action and come out of hiding. But he couldn't take the chance that the author of that note was actually serious. He was well aware that demons typically didn't see human lives as being worth that much; the life of one helpless teenage girl probably didn't mean a whole lot to much of anybody.

It was blessedly close now, he realized. Urahara's shop wasn't too far from his house and school to begin with, so this hadn't been a very far run. He was grateful for that, at least; he wouldn't have to worry about having received the letter too late. No, whoever set this up knew he was waiting in a convenient place.

So absorbed in his own thoughts was Ichigo that he hardly registered the shadows moving at the corner of his eyes, just off the sidewalk in one of the wooded areas off the main path. As soon as his mind really computed that he was about to be intercepted, though, he immediately stopped running and went for the leather band snapped around his left wrist. He was just about to tug it free when the source of the movement burst free of the underbrush, causing him to take a step back.

The newcomer was tall and muscular, his large frame covered in the same school uniform Ichigo himself usually wore. A thin sheen of sweat was scarcely visible on his face beneath his disheveled mop of messy brown hair. More than that, the look in his eyes glimmered with recognition of the redhead before him.

"Chad?!" Ichigo exclaimed, his eyes meeting the heavily lidded ones of his best friend. For his part, Chad looked shocked to see Ichigo as well, his hand having already been clutched tightly at the collar of his shirt when he emerged from the shrubs.

"Ichigo?" his friend parroted back, "Inoue, she's... I can't find her."

'Just like Chad,' Ichigo thought, noting that his tall friend hadn't even bothered to ask where he'd been for the past week or how he knew he was looking for Inoue as well. And that brought another question to mind.

"Wait, you're looking for her, too?" Ichigo asked, resuming his sprint towards the park. Chad simply nodded and gave him an affirmative 'hn'. Had Chad been looking out for her while he was gone? Well, he figured that was as much as he was going to get out of the giant on that topic; if he didn't want to talk just yet, he wouldn't.

"Whoever has her took her to the park down the block from the school," Ichigo continued, filling the silence between them. He received another nod for his trouble, silently hoping that whatever was there wouldn't turn Chad into another casualty. If nothing else, he could send his friend to grab Inoue and run for it while he fought them off.

Finally, just as the last shaded light of dusk was beginning to disappear, they made footfall at the sidewalk bordering the park. Covering ground quickly, the pair almost bounded the width of the concrete, their feet packing the wet playground sand beneath them as they landed. Their enthusiasm giving way to confusion, both Chad and Ichigo stopped to get the lay of their surroundings and see if they could spot their target.

The park was clearly made for families. There was a picnic area, along with bathrooms and several benches and gazebos for visitors to rest upon. Beyond that, there was a play area containing swings, monkey bars, a jungle gym, teeter totters, and several other small children's activities. That particular area was well-shaded, being bordered with trees as it was, and when the open picnic tables and benches did not yield what Ichigo and Chad sought, they turned their attention hence.

Upon closer examination, Ichigo thought he could see the outline of a figure slouched against the base of the jungle gym. The pale yellow of a school sweater confirmed it as he further discerned it from the shadows.

"There," he quietly hissed to Chad, who looked as though he had been wondering the same thing. The two began to run towards the playground, their footfalls heavy and solid. As they grew closer, they could better see what it was that was lying against the bars. The hazy figure came better into focus, first as belonging to a female, then to a redhead, and then Ichigo caught a glimmer of light reflecting off twin, blue hairpins.

"Inoue!" Ichigo exclaimed, forgetting his earlier quietness and hoping the girl was only sleeping and that he could simply rouse her with his voice. He quickened his step, but he and Chad were still more than twenty paces off when it happened.

A bright, bluish-white bolt of light fell to the ground at Ichigo's feet, as though it was flung from the heavens themselves. Pieces of earth were hurled skyward as Ichigo pulled up short, the shot stopping him dead in his tracks. Frantically, he and Chad looked around for the source of the attack; even though his senses were dampened by his inhibitor, Ichigo could tell that this wasn't the work of a demon. The residual energy left behind smelled too... artificial.

"You're late," a somewhat rigid voice called out to the pair. They followed the sound with their eyes, looking up to the top of the bars below which Inoue rested. There, cloaked in shadow, was a man in pristine white, all the way from his coat to the tips of his shoes. His slick, black hair framed a face made nondescript by the darkness, save the two glowing lenses that covered his eyes. And in his right hand, there was a bow made entirely of burning white light.

"Who the hell are you?" Ichigo yelled up to the man in white as he leapt from the bars of the jungle gym and landed gracefully right between Chad and Ichigo and the girl they'd come to rescue. As his head snapped up to regard them again, Ichigo had the feeling he'd seen him somewhere before, but couldn't quite place just where.

"Are you really that stupid?" the man in white asked derisively, "You don't recognize me at all?" Ichigo's eyebrows rose at the insult, but just to check, he looked over at Chad, who had a similarly confused expression. The large man shrugged, indicating to Ichigo that he had no idea who the kidnapper actually was, either.

"Sorry, man," Ichigo replied, turning back to him with a cocky smirk, "_Should_ I know who you are?" The black haired man scowled and adjusted his glasses with a small 'clink'.

"All demons should," he replied, fixing Ichigo with a piercing gaze. Ichigo again glanced at Chad, this time with more than a little trepidation; how did this guy know about that? And was he about to expose him to Chad, as well? Strangely enough, Ichigo saw his own anxiety reflected back to him in Chad's face.

"Don't be stupid," Ichigo responded instinctively, hoping the man in white couldn't see the tiny beads of perspiration that had appeared on his forehead, "There aren't any demons here. Right, Chad?" Ichigo saw Chad's large massive Adam's apple bob once against his throat before he nodded his assent. His eyebrow rose, but he kept that observation to himself and said nothing.

"Oh? There aren't? What about the day you left your inhibitor at home? That just so happened to be the day Inoue-san showed up with her neck bandaged and you disappeared at lunch. Coincidence?"

Ichigo felt his blood freeze. This was the boy who'd given him such a frigid look in class that morning, he was sure of it. So he had known the whole time; like Rukia and Renji, he had felt his demonic aura as well. But looking at him now, Ichigo couldn't see anything demonic about him. He appeared for all intents and purposes to be a simple human.

"I see you've no answer to that," the man in white continued, "Let me explain with small words so you'll understand. I knew you'd come after this girl because you've already bitten her once. You left her alive for whatever reason last week, although every other girl you've attacked has been found dead. Tonight, I'm going to put an end to your predation of human women. Tonight is the night you meet your end at the hands of Ishida Uryuu, the last Quincy!"

Ichigo stared dumbfounded at this declaration. Just to be certain he had heard correctly, he turned to see Chad mirroring his own somewhat confused face back at him. After another few seconds, he could no longer keep a straight face and began snickering into his hand at the Quincy's flair for the dramatic.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Ichigo said, wiping a tear from his eye as his voice returned to normal after being carried away with laughter, "But we've not attacked any human women, especially not Inoue." As he looked up and saw Ishida's countenance, however, he realized that the Quincy didn't believe any of it.

"Give me one good reason to believe any of that," Ishida replied, leveling his bow at the pair before him. He 'strung' another glowing bluish-white 'arrow', the light throwing sinister shadows across his face as he did so. Ichigo realized too late that Ishida was entirely serious; only another second went by before he released his arrow with a 'snap', sending it flying at the two teenagers facing him.

Ichigo's right hand immediately went to his left wrist, his instincts having been honed over the last week in Urahara's shop. Even as he tore the leather wrap away from his skin, though, it was evident that he wasn't going to be able to react in time. And sure enough, Ishida's arrow was closing in at an alarming rate.

Before it could strike them, though, it was stopped shorted in a hail of light. As soon as Ichigo's eyes cleared from his own transformation, two things immediately occurred to him. First of all, something had intercepted the arrow before it could reach him. Secondly, his senses now told him that there was another demon standing right beside him.

Ichigo lowered his right arm, which was now holding his nodachi, and looked at the demon standing beside him. His arms were plated with red and white armor, the right forearm holding forth the shield that had deflected Ishida's arrow. And in his left hand dangled the coin necklace that Ichigo had long ago begun to take for granted.

"Chad!" Ichigo regarded him with a look of fascination. For his part, Chad was no less shocked upon seeing his best friend also in his demon form. His surprise lasted for a second before nodding in understanding.

"You were off training, then," he noted succinctly.

"You, too?" Ishida asked. He lowered his bow, clearly having been caught off-guard by this unexpected revelation. He quickly regained his composure as well, though, setting his jaw as he stared at the duo. "I won't excuse you if you help this criminal," he finally said firmly.

"I don't know what this is about," Chad returned, "But Ichigo isn't a criminal." Ichigo looked at his friend for a second, grateful for the support. Then, with renewed purpose, he set his sword before his face and gave Ishida a challenging stare.

"I don't want to continue this," Ichigo said, "Just leave Inoue there and go home and we'll forget this ever happened." Ichigo could tell as soon as he said it that Ishida wouldn't even consider it; his mouth set into a grim line as he stared down the redhead.

"Out of the question," Ishida answered sharply, "I won't abandon a fellow human to you, demon!" Ichigo's face contorted with confusion; Ishida was definitely human. But now that he thought about it, what human fired arrows from a bow made of light?

"Whoa, back the fun bus up a second here," Ichigo said, not lowering his guard all the while, "If you're human, how the hell are you doing all that?" Ishida's eyes shown with contempt.

"You really are ignorant, aren't you?" he replied with barely disguised malice, "I already told you - I'm a Quincy, a demon hunter." Ichigo started for a moment before turning to see Chad's likewise blank expression. For his part, Ishida seemed to be growing more and more impatient with the pair.

"Did you not pay attention in class at all?" he finally shouted in frustration, "Sekigahara? The Tokugawa? _The Western Army?_ Is any of this ringing any bells?" The look on Ichigo's face said that it was not.

"I missed half that lesson," he replied with a shrug. Ishida's face fell for a moment, recalling that he hadn't been in class for the past week after all.

"It doesn't matter," Ishida finally said, adjusting his glasses out of frustration, "You don't have to know my life story to know what's going to happen next." And once again he notched his bow in Ichigo's direction.

"Chad," Ichigo said to his friend, "I've got this. Get Inoue out of here." Chad nodded his assent and began to move towards the unconscious girl. As he did so, Ishida huffed his disapproval, casting a resentful glance at Ichigo before turning to follow Chad with his bow.

"I'm the one you wanted to fight, right?" Ichigo said, grinning as he lunged forward, "So keep your eyes on me!"

Taken slightly off-guard because of his hesitation, Ishida was forced on the defensive as Ichigo swung his sword towards him. He dodged to the side just in time to avoid serious injury; his coat, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Nor was his shoulder; there was a small cut, now oozing red, where his sleeve had been sliced cleanly. His cobalt eyes narrowed at the demon before him.

For his part, Ichigo was smiling broadly. His blood raced at the prospect of fighting a real foe on equal footing for the first time since discovering his demonic nature. This wasn't even a conscious thought; it was primal and instinctive, a deep inner joy coming from the adrenaline of battle. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes were happily flashing red.

He dove forward to cut Ishida again and draw more blood, but this time the archer was ready. Instead of another strike, Ichigo received instead a bow pointed straight at his face. He dodged just in time to take away nothing but a singed eyebrow, but the message was clear; this Quincy was not someone to be trifled with.

"You're pretty good!" Ichigo exclaimed happily, crouching and preparing for another lunge. Ishida calmly pulled back his left hand, another arrow forming there as his facial expression froze in place.

"You're not," he replied stoically, releasing the bundle of white hot energy in Ichigo's direction. Another dodge, this arrow tearing into the sand of the playground and kicking up the brown earth underneath. Ichigo knew he'd barely escaped that one; indeed, there was a scorch mark across his upper thigh, his black hakama burned away where the arrow had grazed him. Before he could strike again, however, he was interrupted.

"Ichigo!" It was Chad. Ichigo turned to see his tall friend passing his fight, Inoue hanging from one armored shoulder. He smiled, relieved that she was being evacuated. They could catch up once this was over.

When he turned back to his opponent, however, that smile vanished. Instead, cinnamon-colored eyes widened, their pupils constricted to pinpricks in the face of the blinding white light before him. While Ichigo had his head turned, Ishida had taken the advantage and leveled his bow at point blank range at the other boy's face. Ichigo could feel the searing heat from the arrow and the tension in the black haired man's fingers as it hummed threateningly before him.

"It's over," Ishida ground out, releasing the arrow.

Ichigo shut his eyes against the light, preparing fully for his face to be melted clean off. The promised face-melting did not occur, however; instead, there was a crash and even more light.

"Kurosaki-kun!"

Ichigo slowly opened his eyes. Was he dead? Was he hallucinating? That was Inoue, right? As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized what had stopped Ishida's arrow: a glowing, gold, three-pointed shield as tall as he was and as flat as a sheet of paper.

If Ishida's face was any indication, he didn't know what had happened either. Both turned as one to the large man with the redhead slung over his shoulder. For their parts, Chad and Orihime looked just as shocked as the two combatants. And as for Orihime, Ichigo noticed that her hairpins had begun to glitter strangely, as though they were generating their own light.

Presently, Chad sat the now-conscious girl on her feet, and after wobbling for a second to regain her balance, Orihime headed towards the two fighters.

"Inoue-san..." Ishida's face, which had recently been so full of consternation, was now softened with concern. She drew up beside Ichigo and faced Ishida, her expression full of worry.

"Inoue," Ichigo repeated. He was glad that she was awake and well, but that didn't tell him where the shield had come from or how she had made it. Presently, though, it dissolved, the three corners zipping back towards her hairpins in small streaks of light. The glass flowers twinkled for a moment before settling back to reflecting the glow of the streetlights. From the expression of her face, though, he could only surmise that she was as clueless as they all were as to that shield's origin.

"Ishida-kun, please," she said, "Please don't attack Kurosaki-kun anymore. He didn't do anything to me." She appeared to be on the verge of tears, and that by itself seemed to soften Ishida's resolve.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said finally, "I don't know why you feel the need to protect him, but you should stand aside and let me finish this." Orihime's face went pale and she looked as though she was going to protest again.

"No, I think you should stand aside and let us handle this."

The group turned to look as one at the source of the voice. They were almost knocked off their feet by the sudden burst of light from the floodlights accompanying the newcomers. There was no shortage of exclamations from the pain of the blinding light, and Ichigo even felt himself stumble just a bit from the force of it. Hands went to shield narrowed eyes as two dark figures were silhouetted against the light.

"A patrol," Ishida hissed, just loud enough for Ichigo to hear him, "We'll finish this some other time."

Ichigo turned to give him a good, hot piece of his mind, but in the second it took him to divert his squinting eyes to the place where Ishida stood, the white-clad man was already gone. As Ichigo turned back to the source of the light, his eyes already adjusting painfully, he saw a familiar flicker of silver and glass. He felt his stomach drop, and he barely avoided muttering a few choice words where Inoue could hear them.

"Well, well!" a familiar, too-cheery voice exclaimed, "Look what we got here! I Am Not A Demon-san and his equally non-demonic friends!" The taller figure pushed his goggles further up his forehead with his thumb, his toothy grin discernible even with the blinding light pouring in from behind him.

"Apparently," a second, more feminine voice answered the first, "At least Nii-sama will stop punishing you for misplacing him now." The three in the spotlight looked on in stunned silence as Renji sputtered.

"Whose fault was that?" he flailed back, "Who said '_He'll bleed out on his own_', huh? '_We can come pick up the body after school_', huh?!" This earned him cold, stony silence and a debilitating fist to the gut. Truth be told, Ichigo was beginning to almost feel a little sorry for the guy. Almost. But not really.

"I don't know how you managed to escape your execution," Rukia finally said, turning back to the three pinned beneath the glare of the floodlights, "But this is now a matter beyond our jurisdiction. You are hereby remanded to the custody of Lucifer-sama and the House of Pride until such time as Abaddon-sama will see you." Finally regaining some semblance of his senses, Ichigo stepped in front of Orihime and began to fire back at the petite demon before them.

"What makes you think I'm going to just stand here and let you haul us in? Huh?" Rukia's delicate eyebrow rose at this bold challenge. She lifted one graceful hand in his direction and pointed a slender finger at him. He could see her mouth moving, forming words, but he couldn't quite make out what they could be.

"...divide into six - _Rikujou Kourou!_"

Ichigo felt as though he'd been punched in the gut and back simultaneously. He could barely look down, but when he did, he could see six white beams seeming to impale his mid-section. He was also now aware of Chad and Orihime's panic at this.

"Ichigo!"

"Kurosaki-kun! What did you do to him?!" Ichigo watched Orihime turn towards the smaller girl, hurt and fear evident on her face. But what was she afraid of? They wouldn't worry over a human, right? His gut clinched as he realized that Orihime was stepping towards the black-haired girl, her tiny fists balled in anger and trembling.

"Inoue, no!" There was no way a human girl could handle a demon girl, let alone a demon girl with her large, ill-tempered bodyguard. Panic seized Ichigo, icy fingers clutching his heart. He'd only just gotten her back, dammit! For her part, Rukia looked impassive, and Ichigo was thankful for that much.

"He's merely paralyzed," Rukia replied, her tone and expression even, "And unless you would like to be, too, I suggest you two stay where you are for the moment. We will be taking you back with us." This caused Orihime to stop in her tracks.

"No!" Ichigo fairly well roared, "You wanted me, right? Well, you have me! Let them go!" Like hell he'd give them Inoue just like that. They'd almost killed him; god only knew what they'd do with her!

He was straining against his bonds with all his might now, pushing his body straight to its limit and probably beyond. He felt one stave crack and smiled with satisfaction. For her part, Rukia looked momentarily stunned - as though this had never happened to her before - but then set her face back into its customary authoritative scowl.

"Cut that out." Renji's voice came from behind Ichigo, causing his head to snap around to see the frowning redhead breathing down his neck.

"The hell I will!" he spat back, "You let them go or I swear I'll--"

It was then that he felt Renji's firm fist slam into the back of his skull. The force of the blow was enough to drive his knees into the ground. Ichigo's eyes rolled into the back of his head aimlessly.

Suddenly, everything was dark.


	6. Chapter 6: Judgment

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 6 - Judgment

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note:** Wow, chapter six already! I can't believe I got it out this fast! Anyway, big thanks to all my readers and reviewers; if it wasn't for you guys, I'd probably have already wandered away from this story, since I have the attention span of a ferret with ADD sometimes. But I do love this story a lot and hope to stick with it for as long as possible. Please enjoy this chapter and look forward to another one soon!

* * *

This seemed to be happening to him with frightening regularity.

The first thing Ichigo was aware of was the feeling of swaying and floating. It felt as though he was being carried by some other power; not a person, but something much larger than he. As senses began to return to his body, he began to become aware of other things. He was laying on a cold, hard surface. The only cushioning was a bit of scratchy straw here and there; it was digging into his cheek at the moment. There was a rough rumbling in the background which slowly grew louder as he became more and more awake. He could feel the vibrations from the floor underneath him; a particularly jolting bump convinced him that he must be in a vehicle of some kind. But most importantly, he couldn't feel the oppressive light from those damned spotlights anymore.

Edging one eye carefully open, his vision slowly began to focus. The compartment he was in was dark and cool. He was a bit thankful for that, of all things; he thought those bright lights were going to burn his eyes straight out of his head. They still ached a bit, to be sure, but it was nowhere near as acute. In fact, it seemed as though his vision had returned entirely to normal from its demonic sharpness; sure enough, he could feel his leather band around his wrist again. Someone had replaced his inhibitor while he was out.

"Kurosaki-kun?" Her voice was soft and cracked a bit around the edges as she spoke. "Sado-kun, I think he's waking up!"

Ichigo rolled slowly onto his side, turning to face Orihime. As her face swam into focus, he could see the light from streetlights outside passing gently across her like ghosts. As they passed another, he noticed the light shining off her eyes and cheeks. She'd been crying? Had they done something to her?

"Inoue? Are you hurt?" He watched her shake her head in the negative. His face scrunched a bit in confusion as he tried to sit up; if she wasn't hurt, why did she look like she was in pain? His thoughts were jolted from that particular path by the realization that his arms were bound behind him. He wobbled a bit on his way to a sitting position because it had thrown his balance off. Seeing his difficulty in sitting, Orihime leaned forward to place a hand on his shoulder and help him up.

"She put another spell on your hands to keep you from trying to get away while the van is moving," Orihime said quietly. Ichigo grit his teeth; he swore to himself that that midget had better hope he _never_ got his hands free. Orihime's hand moved around to his back, rubbing soothingly as it did. It was odd; by this simple action, he felt some of his irritation siphon off, her cool hand smoothing his frazzled nerves and making him calmer.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked, that pained expression flitting across her face again. Ichigo took note of it for the second time. It was then that it hit him; it was worry - more specifically, it was worry _for him_. He pulled up a weak smile for her. It might not be convincing, but he at least had to try to assuage her fears.

"I'm fine, Inoue," he said, his voice scratchy and unsure, "I just have a scratch on my leg and a headache from those lights. That's all." Her eyes searched his face for a second before deciding his answer was good enough and moving to his leg.

"They did that on purpose," a deep voice came from across the compartment. Ichigo looked over to see Chad sitting in the opposite corner of the van from him. He'd replaced his necklace, sealing his demonic power. His arms were their normal, tanned color again, the snake and winged heart tattoo barely visible on his left shoulder in the shadows.

"What, the lights?" He couldn't mean the wound on his leg from Ishida; of course _that one_ was done on purpose. But what did he mean, they did the spotlight on purpose?

"When you've got your limiter off, your vision's more sensitive. Bright lights are painful." He tapped one long finger against the messy brown hair strewn across his temple. Ichigo wanted to slap his forehead with his palm; of _course_ a patrol unit would use spotlights to make criminals freeze. And those two jackasses had their backs turned to the lights the entire time, so they weren't looking directly at them. It made a scary amount of sense.

"Of course," Ichigo groaned. His irritated thoughts were interrupted, however, by a tingling sensation on his thigh. As he looked down, he noticed that the arrow wound Ishida had left him with was enveloped in a small dome of golden light. Slowly, as though the light was erasing its existence, the wound closed. It was the same color, the same sparkling energy, as the shield Orihime had provided him with earlier, and in realizing this, his head snapped up to regard her with surprise.

For her part, Orihime looked just as stunned as Ichigo did. She watched the small dome in fascination until the wound closed, upon which the paper-thin light dispersed, two glowing points of light bundling at the edges before zipping back to her glittering hairpins. As she noticed Ichigo's eyes studying her, she flushed and looked away.

"How did you..." he trailed off, unable to contain his fascination. Was this a demonic power? And if so, her hairpins were obviously her inhibitors, but how could she produce an effect like that without removing them? Ichigo knew he certainly couldn't do anything like that with his wristband still on.

"I... I don't know!" she exclaimed in something akin to frustration, "I don't know how I made that shield earlier, either!" Her face scrunched up, chin tucked against her chest, fists balled up against her thighs and his back. She was visibly ready to cry. Ichigo began to panic - if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was to see a girl cry.

"Don't... Don't worry about it, okay! It's no big deal! We'll figure it out, right?" He spoke quickly, hoping to head off any waterworks at the pass. She looked up at him again, unscrewing her face and sniffling a tiny bit. The innocent look she gave him caused warmth to spread across his chest; her open, honest face pricked him somewhere deep, giving rise to a protective urge he usually reserved solely for his sisters. This was different, though. It was less brotherly, and more of something else that he couldn't exactly name.

"Okay... Right..." she muttered, lowering her eyes. The urge to embrace her came upon him suddenly and unbidden; he wanted to cradle her in his arms until she no longer felt scared or unsafe. The bonds on his wrists now felt unbearably restrictive and cruel.

As if responding to Ichigo's thoughts, Orihime seemed to only just then realize how close they were to one another. She sat upright with a jerk, taking her hand off his back as though she'd been burned. She balled her hands into her lap and stared at them, wide-eyed. Ichigo could've sworn she was blushing in the dim light.

"Umm... That is... I..." she stammered, twisting her skirt in her hands. Ichigo cleared his throat and looked the other way; he figured that was the polite thing to do at the moment. Suddenly, his cheek really, really needed to be scratched.

The awkward exchange came to an end as the van jerked to a halt. The two teenagers tipped towards each other, Orihime steadying herself on Ichigo's shirt to keep from falling into his lap entirely. His heart was beating so hard in his ears that he barely registered the sounds of slamming doors from the passenger cab of the vehicle, or the sound of footsteps outside the cargo bay. All Ichigo had time to notice was the way his face was burning and the way her hand was resting against his chest. A long, long moment passed as Orihime seemed to gather her courage enough to slowly look up at him.

"We're here," Chad said quietly, breaking the tension of the heated moment between his cabinmates. Ichigo's eyes snapped over to regard his friend, who was in turn watching the compartment doors and waiting. He didn't have to wait long; a few seconds later, Renji threw the doors open, the dim lights of a large estate filtering through the back of the van. The redhead's original sour look was briefly replaced with surprise, his tattooed eyebrows arching towards his goggles.

"Geez," he muttered, "We tie your hands behind your back, and you've still got game." Ichigo was sure his face was the color of his own hair now and quickly heading towards the shade Renji was sporting. For her part, Orihime jerked back, her hands returning to their spot in her lap and her chin to its resting place on her chest. The loss of her contact only irritated Ichigo more.

"Sh--!_ Shut up!_" he bellowed, "It's not my fault you don't know how to drive!" Renji's face lost all amusement as a vein sprouted on his temple.

"I'll have you know I got a perfect score on my driver's test!" he yelled back in indignation. Before he could say anything else, though, his head pitched sharply forward, revealing the petite black-haired girl behind him.

"Stop screaming in Nii-sama's driveway!"

Ichigo noted with narrowing eyes that Rukia was being just as loud as they were.

"Oww, Rukia! He started it!" Renji protested, pawing his head where Rukia had hit him with her tiny fist. Rukia seemed largely unimpressed.

"Oh, grow up, Renji," she said flatly before turning to their prisoners, "You three, get down and follow me." Ichigo reluctantly did as he was told, glaring mutinously all the while. If she'd just take that spell off his hands, he'd _really_ give her something to follow.

As soon as he was down from the back of the van, Ichigo turned to check on Orihime and Chad. Chad had already hopped out, giving Renji a nod as he did so. The ponytailed teenager huffed and looked away; the thought that he had gotten punished for not finishing him off when he had the chance gave Ichigo a secret, small feeling of satisfaction. As for Orihime, she climbed down with some effort, landing next to Ichigo with a tiny squeak.

"You alright?" he asked her quietly, ignoring their jailers for the moment. She regarded him silently with wide eyes, nodding in the affirmative before this once again caught Renji's ire.

"Less flirting, more walking," he barked, herding the trio around the van and up the large driveway. Ichigo felt his ears burn, but bit back the urge to argue again; it was only prolonging the inevitable. Besides, Inoue's hand was clutching the hem of his shirt hard. He knew she was probably more afraid than he could possibly be at the moment; he couldn't even imagine how hard this all was on her, and he knew it. He didn't want to cause more stress for her.

Those thoughts receded as soon as he got a good look at the grounds to which they'd been transported. First and foremost, Ichigo noted that there wasn't much light in the landscaping. That probably went back to what Chad had mentioned, he realized; why would a houseful of demons need much light outside at night? Even so, after another few seconds, he noticed his vision had completely adjusted anyway.

Now that his eyes were properly dilated, he could see a bit clearer. The van had pulled along the side of the house - Ichigo guessed they weren't allowed to enter though the front - and they were now approaching a side door with a keypad set into the wall beside it. The door itself was a stark difference from the rest of the decor. It was flat and dark, probably made of steel or some other solid metal. The wall it was set into, however, was made of wood and looked quite traditional. In fact, everything they'd seen of this estate thus far - the shrubbery, the trees, the landscaping, the outside of the house, the sloping roofs, the patios, the railings, the paper windows - was completely, traditionally Japanese. Even though the exterior of the large estate looked frail and ancient, Ichigo suspected there was much more to it than they could visibly tell; an invisible undercurrent, not quite visible at the corners of his vision, flowing through the walls like some kind of foreign electricity. He wondered if it was technological... or something more sinister.

Rukia turned her back to their captives to punch a code into the keypad; it wasn't as if Ichigo had any misconceptions about her lack of attention. He knew just exactly how far he could get in such a place with his hands bound. And if he didn't, Renji was at the tail of their little procession and would quickly disabuse him of any such notions anyway.

The plastic buttons on the keypad flashed green to signal that Rukia's code was valid, and the steel door slid open, revealing a dark corridor beyond. The only thing that Ichigo could see in the interior of the house was the gleam of moonlight and dim garden lights shining off a well-polished wooden floor. As they were herded inside the dark hallway, the metal door slid shut behind them with a silky, shifting noise, leaving the group in pitch blackness. Ichigo could feel Inoue's hand tugging more insistently at his shirt at the loss of the feeble light to which they'd finally grown accustomed; the bonds around his wrists felt tighter than ever as he cursed himself silently for dragging her into this little drama.

Small footsteps resounded and echoed directly in front of Ichigo, moving away from him, and after another few seconds he heard the snapping of fingers. A row of glass sconces fastened to the walls sprang to life with bluish-white flickering flames. The light was little better than that outside, but it was far preferable to the darkness that had engulfed them only seconds ago.

Now that the hallway had been lit, Ichigo could clearly see it for the first time. As he suspected, the floor was polished wood laid out in the traditional style. The stark corridor was lined on either side with similarly sealed wooden paneling from which the sconces were hung, and farther down the hall, he could see paper sliding doors set into the wood. The pale light flickered eerily across the smooth, glossy floors, giving Ichigo the overall impression of a house that was so tidy, so meticulously well-kept, that it might as well have been an Edo-period replica of a lord's manor.

As they began to follow Rukia's retreating form down the hallway, Ichigo noticed a slight shiver in the air beside his shoulder. He looked down to see Orihime, eyes on the floor, trembling and holding herself. She was shaking badly enough that he'd felt it even being as far from her as he was. For a brief moment, he could swear he even heard her teeth chattering.

"Inoue?" he whispered, trying not to draw their captors' attention any more than necessary.

"It's cold," she muttered back, almost so softly that Ichigo couldn't hear her through the chattering of her teeth. "It's so cold..."

Ichigo fretted quietly as they walked. It wasn't warm in this building by any means, but it certainly wasn't cold, either. It wasn't cold enough outside for her to have caught such a chill, either. The possibility occurred to him that she was in shock and suffering from poor circulation, but even that didn't seem to make sense; yes, everything that was happening was frightening and stressful, but was it bad enough to send her into shock?

"Here." The deep voice came from behind, tan hands reaching out to drape the large wool school jacket he'd been carrying over Orihime's shoulders. She pulled it closed towards her chest with shaking hands as Ichigo looked over his shoulder to see Chad offering the jacket to her. He gave his best friend a weary smile.

"Thanks, Chad," he said softly. Ichigo was so preoccupied with this little sideshow that he almost didn't notice that Rukia had stopped in front of a large set of inlaid wooden doors. He caught himself just before colliding with her backside. She didn't even turn to acknowledge him.

'She thinks she's so much better than us,' he thought mutinously, his eyes narrowing on the back of her black-tressed head. If the situation wasn't as dire as it was, he'd have popped off some smart-mouthed comment or planted his foot squarely in her backside. As it was, though, he was holding himself back intently; he didn't care what they did to him, but his friends shouldn't be punished because of his misbehavior.

"Nii-sama," Rukia finally spoke to the door, "We're here."

"Your brother's a door?" Ichigo asked dryly, finally unable to hold it back any longer. The next thing he felt wasn't exactly regret; it was a sharp, stinging pain from the tiny foot that had just made such a bruising impact with his toes.

Before she could say anything, though, Rukia's head perked up as though she'd heard a sound beyond the range of Ichigo's hearing. His eyes widened as the doors seemed to swing inward of their own volition.

"Try to look impressed," Renji muttered under his breath to him, too softly for Rukia to hear, "They like that sort of thing." Ichigo blinked in surprise for a second; was Renji actually being... friendly? Well, regardless of what was on the other side of the door, Ichigo actually was surprised now. He figured he just might be the lesser of two evils to Renji and turned back to watch Rukia enter the room now opened before them.

The room itself was nothing impressive; if anything it was mostly just dark and spacious, something like Ichigo imagined a boardroom would look. The first thing he noticed was the set of floor lamps situated at the far end of the room. They were lit with low, flickering red flames that danced ever so slightly at the change in air pressure the open doors had caused. The walls were hung with heavy, deep red drapes, their velvet consistency causing deep shadows to lie in their folds. The light from the lamps gave the walls the impression of being painted in running blood - an impression that Ichigo tried not to think too hard about. In the middle of the room, there was situated a long, dark table, probably made of cherry wood or mahogany. Tall, black, high-backed chairs ran along either side, all but four of them unoccupied.

The most noticeable figure was, of course, the one situated at the end of the table. He was an ancient man, bald but for a white mustache and a beard that trailed down his chest, wrapped in cross-crossing ribbons. His visible skin was scarred all over, probably from years of battle, and had begun to droop and wrinkle just a bit as it stretched over the muscled frame beneath. The firelight still provided the shadows that spoke of protruding blue veins beneath the parchment of skin; Ichigo thought that if he got closer to the old man, he would be able to see the network of veins running the length of his arms. Beside his seat, his gnarled hand protruded from the sleeve of his black robes, holding the end of a large wooden staff. Ichigo immediately took him to be the leader of the group; aside from appearing much, much older than the other three, his countenance and bearing quietly bespoke dominance and authority.

To his right, Ichigo could see the one that could only be Rukia's older brother. His shoulder-length hair was the same glossy black shade as hers, just as his eyes held the same slant and deep color. He was just as graceful, just as stern as his younger sister, but much more refined. Aside from sharing the same slick, black hair, their countenances were eerily similar. The male Kuchiki had such a regal bearing, such poise and elegance, that Ichigo immediately recalled what Renji had said on the rooftop: this was the head of the House of Pride. It then occurred to him how odd it was for someone like Renji to work for someone like this; an odd couple indeed.

Across from Rukia's brother, on the old man's left, there was a man who looked to be no older than thirty-five. His wavy, mouse-brown hair fell to his ears on either side of his pale face, which was dominated by a black pair of square glasses. He smiled warmly at the group as they entered and Ichigo almost felt at ease for a moment. Even though he knew he shouldn't get his hopes up, he almost entertained the notion of appealing to this man's kindness to let them go. Almost as soon as he thought that, though, he caught the look the person beside the brown-haired man was giving them and decided against that.

The last person at the table looked to be a few years younger than Ichigo, and certainly no older than his sisters. Even at the distance they were standing from the table, Ichigo could see the boy's piercing blue eyes; they seemed to be boring a hole into him, freezing him in place. As if that wasn't odd enough, the boy's tousled white hair gave the impression that he was years older than he actually should have been. Ichigo figured that if the boy was his age, or a few years older, he would have simply seemed stern instead of entirely off-putting. As it was, he wanted to scowl back and ask the brat if he had a problem, never minding the fact that the kid obviously had some sort of authority to be sitting at the same table with all these old men.

"Commander General Abaddon," Rukia addressed the head of the table with a deep bow, "Lucifer-sama, Belial-sama, Amon-sama." Ichigo thought this strange; these were obviously foreign names. Indeed, these men were from another realm entirely. But if Rukia and Renji had Japanese names, shouldn't these men, as well? Perhaps these were titles?

"So this is the whelp that's been giving Pride House such a hard time recently," the old man drawled, his heavily-lidded eyes scanning the group. "Who're these other two?"

"Sado Yasutora and Inoue Orihime," Rukia answered, eyes still on the floor, "An accomplice and a willing victim, sir." Ichigo wished with all his might that he could kick her in the backside right about now. The old man turned to the black-haired man sitting on his right.

"What do we know of them?" he asked the younger man. Rukia's brother raised one fine eyebrow in response, shuffling what seemed to be a report in front of him.

"The girl is a human and of no consequence to us," he replied, his fine accent and bored, aristocratic voice making Ichigo flinch with the repressed urge to kick him, too. "The other is a half-breed with dual citizenship with Mexico. He's followed the girl home every day for the past week in lieu of his friend." Ichigo almost lunged toward the arrogant older man at that point. How dare he talk about Chad that way? He was stopped short by a large, muscular hand covering his wrists; he looked back to see Chad shaking his head. He didn't appear offended, at least.

As for the old man himself, his attention was not on Chad, but on Orihime.

"A human, you say?" This was said as though he didn't quite believe the report for some reason. Ichigo felt a tinge of fear for a moment; what if this old man suspected that something wasn't quite right about Orihime? What if they tried to do something horrible to her? Would he be able to fight them off with just his feet? Orihime shivered next to him as the old man looked at her, causing panic to squeeze Ichigo's heart with icy fingers.

"Kurosaki Ichigo!"

The old man's voice was loud, deep, and startling, commanding the immediate attention of all who were standing in the room. Ichigo himself stared at the old man with wide eyes.

"You stand accused of murdering four of your own kind in cold blood and Marking a human girl," the old man said sternly, as though he were a judge reading a criminal case, "What do you have to say for yourself?" He rapped his large cane against the floor, making a sound that caused Ichigo to think he may have cracked the well-polished hardwood beneath.

To say Ichigo didn't deal well with authority would be an understatement. He didn't take well to it at school, with the teachers and their endless harassment over his hair, and he wasn't going to take it from this old man here, either. He fully intended to give him a piece of his mind.

"I didn't do any of that!" he yelled, leaning forward for emphasis, "I would never lay a hand on Inoue, and those four had it coming! This is all because your idiot officers here wouldn't listen to me!"

It didn't have quite the effect he'd hoped. The brown-haired man looked a bit surprised, certainly, but the old man and the black-haired man looked singularly unimpressed and the white-haired boy simply snorted.

"_Pardon me_ if I'm mistaken," Rukia's brother replied, not looking up from the sheets of paper he was shuffling around, "But you told them you had no knowledge whatsoever of the four you killed and then claimed not to be a demon at all. Did you not?" Ichigo leaned back, disarmed.

"Well, I... I guess... I mean, I guess I said that..." he admitted, "But I..."

"If you had no reason to lie, why did you?" The man turned his stony gaze towards Ichigo for the first time, pinning him to the spot.

"I... I..." Words were failing him. How could he tell them he'd been scared, that he'd been worried what his family's reaction would be, that the only person he'd told was Inoue?

"I'm sorry!"

Ichigo turned to see that Orihime had stepped forward, still shivering slightly as she addressed the table.

"It's... It's all my fault!" she continued, tears slipping down her face, "Those four were... they were trying to kill me! They bit me and almost killed Kurosaki-kun when he tried to stop them! He... He turned into a demon to save me, so... So please don't punish him for something that's my fault!"

The entire room was stunned into silence. All eyes in the room were on Orihime. Ichigo had a look of horror painted on his face; what was she doing? Was she asking to take whatever punishment they intended for him? He angrily thought it was absolutely absurd; there was no way he was going to allow Orihime to take the fall for him.

"Inoue," he started, eyes narrowing, "Don't..."

"I-I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun," she said, turning to him with a sniffle, "I... I know you said to keep it a secret, 'cause of your family, but... But please don't be mad at me for telling!"

Ichigo paused, dumbstruck. She thought he was angry that she was _telling their secret_? He was certain his face looked just as dumb as he currently felt.

"Wha--?"

"Is this true, Abarai?" the black-haired man addressed his lieutenant, who was hovering at the back of the group, looking uncomfortable.

"...Well," he admitted slowly, "We only saw Kurosaki fighting the last one of that group standing. After that, he tore as-- ran out of the alleyway with the girl, so... I guess it might be true..." He scratched his cheek and shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. Ichigo knew better; the taller boy was hoping he wasn't going to be reprimanded for this fiasco.

"What say you?" the old man asked, turning to the other men at the table, "Although she's only a human, as you say Lucifer-dono, do you feel we can trust her testimony?"

The brown-haired man smiled warmly at the group, catching Ichigo's attention. Did that mean he was on their side?

"I see no reason she would lie," he said kindly, causing Ichigo to relax, "If he'd harmed her, I would think she'd want the chance to be rid of him. I don't think that's quite the case here." Ichigo exhaled a breath it seemed as though he'd been holding forever, grateful to the brown-haired man for his generosity.

"Amon-dono?"

The white-haired kid scowled in their direction. Ichigo swore he was going to be a lot harsher than the other men, but then he spoke.

"You really screwed this one up, Abarai," the kid, Amon, said, "It looks like no crime was committed, either way. And I think they'll both be mine, anyway, so it's not like they'll trouble either of you." Ichigo felt his eye twitch. What exactly did that brat _mean_ by 'trouble either of you'? He'd show him trouble, alright.

"Since they belong to Amon-dono, I have no objections," Rukia's brother, the one the old man had called Lucifer, replied coolly, "And I will see to Abarai's punishment for this... embarrassment." Ichigo couldn't help but notice the way Rukia was left out of that statement and wanted to kick her even more.

"Then this matter is settled," Abaddon proclaimed, striking his cane against the floor and rising, his height actually more imposing than Ichigo had expected, "As no laws were actually broken, no charges will be held against any of you. And as the registration laws dictate, Kurosaki Ichigo and Sado Yasutora will be admitted to Wrath House as apprentices. Kuchiki Rukia!"

Rukia's head snapped up from the floor for the first time since she'd entered the room.

"Y-yes, Commander General?"

"Since you've been so involved in this little caper thus far, you can now consider yourself these boys' mentor," the old man said, something that looked decidedly mischievous twinkling in his eye. Ichigo felt his eye twitch again.

"I refuse!" he yelled, panic just barely stretching beneath his voice, "If I have to put up with this abusive, violent midget, I'll go ins--" He was cut off by a tiny foot slamming into his.

"Thank you, Commander General," Rukia said with a deep bow, not rising from it until the older gentleman nodded in her direction.

"Ah, it seems we're done here," Abaddon said to his colleagues, before turning back to the teenagers before him as though he'd only just remembered something.

"One more thing," he said, on the verge of turning away, "Inoue Orihime. I'd like to see you privately. Follow me."

Orihime's eyes widened, but she wordlessly nodded her assent to the older man. Eyes on the floor, she went to follow him. Ichigo wanted to yell at them that anything he needed to say to Orihime could be said in front of them all, but before he could, he felt not only Chad's restraining hand on his wrists, but now Rukia's as well.

"Don't," she said softly in warning while she released the restraints on his wrists, "She'll be fine."

Unbeknownst to the occupants of the room, the curtains on either side shifted ever so slightly, two figures making their way behind them towards the doors.


	7. Chapter 7: The Cursed Child

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 7 - The Cursed Child

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note: ** First of all, thank you to all the people who've left reviews! I appreciate each and every one. Also, happy Thanksgiving! I'm glad I finally finished this chapter, and hope it finds you all well in time for your holiday!

Next, this fic will be on hiatus for a couple weeks so that I can do a one-shot story. I promise you'll all like it, so it won't seem like it's on hiatus at all!

Finally, a cultural note: A banchou is a type of Japanese delinquent usually seen in shounen titles from the 70s and 80s (think Kuwabara from Yu Yu Hakusho or Kujo Jotaro from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure). They're usually pictured wearing baggy school uniforms with ridiculously styled hair, and hanging around parking lots, underpasses, and other spots delinquents frequent. While they still occasionally appear in Japanese media, they've long since gone out of style in real life.

* * *

Orihime followed the old man's retreating form into the shadows of the hallway. As they left the conference room and the others behind them, the walls collapsed into darkness around them, her vision tunneling so that he was all she could see.

This hadn't just started now, though. As soon as she'd entered the Kuchiki household, her whole body had revolted. She felt constricted, as though the very air itself was oppressing her. Her stomach roiled, making her afraid she might throw up with every further step. Worse yet, she felt as though she was standing inside a meat locker the entire time; she had clung to Ichigo for what heat she could get, but removed from him now, she couldn't help but to shiver. Even Chad's school jacket was no help.

Rubbing her arms for heat, she tried to focus on the old man before her. She could feel the others' presence fading behind them, the devastating cold easing up just a bit. There were others here, moving in the shadows; servants, she supposed, like in the movies, or maybe other family or House members. Either way, she wasn't completely alone with Abaddon. She wasn't sure if she should feel comforted or discomfited by that fact, either.

Was he going to punish her? She fretted silently, watching the hem of his robe swish along the floor. If he did, she would deserve it, wouldn't she? It was her fault Ichigo had been drawn into this mess in the first place, wasn't it? If she just hadn't stopped on her way home that afternoon, they'd all be home in bed and enjoying their weekend right now.

Orihime was pulled from her reverie when the old man stopped and unlocked a western-style wooden door. He swung it inwards, holding it open for her as he stepped inside.

"Come in, come in," he said lightly as the door swung closed behind them. Orihime couldn't help but notice that his voice was now somewhat different from what it had been in the conference room; instead of sounding intimidating and authoritative, he now sounded almost... grandfatherly. As the door clicked shut, Orihime felt her vision begin to expand; the darkness retreated to the corners and then out of her sight altogether and the room Abaddon had led her to began to emerge from the shadows.

This room was nowhere near as large as the first she'd been led to. It wasn't small, but it was crammed wall-to-wall with bookshelves, ornate wood furniture, desks, lamps, papers, scrolls (both papyrus and bamboo), and several artifacts that Orihime would have been very hard-pressed to name. For his part, Abaddon began to settle into a large, high-backed chair placed directly behind the imposing oaken desk situated in the center of the room. Behind it, there was a rather ornate fireplace set into the wall.

"Sit, girl," he said, motioning towards the chairs opposite the desk. Orihime turned her head to look at them, startled; she wasn't sure if she should sit at first, seeing as she was in the presence of someone of such high social standing, but he _did_ offer. There was no harm in that, right? Obliging, she seated herself on the edge of one of the fine leather chairs, keeping her back straight and folding her hands in her lap nervously.

"Ah, of course," Abaddon said, almost to himself, "Where are my manners... You would be cold, wouldn't you?" With that, he turned to the fireplace directly behind his desk and pointed his gnarled staff at it. Sparks flew from the tip, and right before Orihime's eyes, a roaring fire sprung to life in the fireplace. Almost instantly, the room began to heat up and the gooseflesh on Orihime's arms began to settle. She exhaled a breath that it seemed like she'd been holding forever.

"Th-Thank you, sir," she said quietly, keeping her eyes trained on the floor in front of her. The chill was rapidly receding from her body, as were the waves of nausea she'd been experiencing since arriving. Was it the fire? Or was the old man tamping down his powers for her sake? He seemed incredibly old and powerful; shouldn't he have overwhelmed her just by being in the same room?

"You may call me Yamamoto, if you like," he said absentmindedly, leafing through a folder on the large, cluttered desk. "Would you like some tea while we talk? I brought some fine matcha with me..."

"No thank you, s- Y-Yamamoto-sama," Orihime replied with a blink, "But... I thought your name was Abaddon?"

"Ah, that," he said, looking up at her again, "That's just a formal title. Yamamoto is my actual name." Orihime nodded her understanding slowly. In this setting, in this manner, he was almost disarming. "Well, I suppose you'd like to know what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yes, Yamamoto-sama," she said quietly. She became vaguely aware that she was twisting her hands in her skirt and instantly forced them to relax, straightening her fingers.

"Those hairpins," Yamamoto said, pointing a gnarled finger at her hair as she lifted her head, "Please remove them and let me see them." Orihime stared at the old man, wide-eyed with fear. Her brother had warned her never to remove them around others. The last time she had, she had been attacked and almost killed. She felt a chill race from the top of her head to her toes; what would happen now, in this nest of demons, if she were to remove them?

"Don't be alarmed," he continued, "I'm well old enough to control myself, and this room is insulated. You're perfectly safe." She marveled that the old man seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. Could it be possible he could read minds? That possibility gave her a start; she fervently hoped he wouldn't find out about the daydreams she had about Kurosaki-kun, or the one with the flying robots, or the ones about the time traveling jelly beans.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, Orihime slowly reached up and began pulling her hairpins away from her bangs. She swallowed hard, and with trembling hands, reached over and delivered the blue crystal flowers into the old demon's hand. Once he had them between his fingers, he turned them this way and that, catching the light from the fireplace in their facets.

"I see," he mused to himself, seemingly having forgotten Orihime, "A regulator. Very advanced..." Orihime felt her eyebrows pinch together; did he know how they worked?

"A regulator?" she asked, a bit of trepidation hitting her as soon as she said it. "Is that like what Kurosaki-kun and Sado-kun wear...?" This seemed to direct the old man's attention back towards her.

"Ah, no," he replied, looking squarely at her, "Theirs are simply power inhibitors. A regulator is far more advanced. It allows one to use a portion of their power while still masking the greater part of it. But I don't suppose you know anything about that." Orihime squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She had powers, too? Of course she did; she had shielded and healed Kurosaki-kun earlier. But none of that made any sense. Why hadn't her brother told her about this when he gave those pins to her?

"I don't know anything," she said softly, biting back tears, "Does that mean... Does that mean I'm a demon, too?" She looked up at Yamamoto, surprised to see his face reflecting something close to pity back at her.

"You really don't know, then," he noted, handing her the pins back. Orihime accepted them, clenching her hand tightly around them as though they were a security blanket.

"What you are is far rarer than a common demon. We don't have a particular word for your kind; you don't appear often enough nowadays to need one. If anything, you could say you're a sort of cousin to our race. In fact, in all my years, I've seen fewer than a dozen of you."

Orihime processed this information as quickly as she could. She wasn't human anymore; no, she had never been human. Did this mean her brother wasn't, either?

"We do know two things about your race, though. First and foremost, without your regulator, your aura makes you inherently attractive to us demons. Lust, hunger, aggression - just by being near you, a demon without the proper training will begin to give in to those desires."

Orihime felt her chest constrict. Was he saying that was what Ichigo felt around her? He had brought her back to his house without her hairpin, hadn't he? She didn't think she could bear it if his only interest in her was instinctive, if it was because of some quirk of her nature that she couldn't control. He hadn't really spoken to her much before she'd been attacked. Did that mean he had never seen Orihime for herself at all?

"What... What's the other thing?" she asked hesitantly. The other information was such a disconcerting blow, that she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know now.

"Ah, that. How to put it... Even though your kind is incredibly attractive to ours, you're that much more deadly. Your blood is poisonous to us. I'm sure you've heard that human blood poses a threat to any demon that drinks it; they stand a chance of being poisoned and going berserk with it. With the blood of your kind, there is no chance; it is a dead certainty. It is for that reason we've come to call you 'Cursed Ones'."

Orihime sat perfectly still, the hand holding her hairpins now clutching the row of buttons on her school shirt. Her grip was so tight it was turning her knuckles white. She was cursed? Worse than that, she was poisonous? If that was true, did that mean she couldn't be around Ichigo or even Chad anymore?

"Then those... those demons that attacked us..." she stammered quietly, saying the first thing that popped into her mind. She wasn't truly even sure what she was even thinking anymore.

"They were likely reacting to your scent," Yamamoto confirmed with a slight nod, "Your kind aren't meant for a harsh world like this. Most don't live past adolescence, in truth. And those that do are usually doomed to endure endless battles for their possession. The lucky may fall under the protection of a particularly strong demon; even so, they are in actuality something like caged birds."

A caged bird? Orihime pictured herself sitting within the bars of a golden cage; was that really all she could do? Was her only hope of even staying alive to simply find a particularly strong demon and ask for their protection? She felt tears begin to prickle at the corner of her eyes.

"I don't want that," she said quietly, her eyes squeezing shut against the tears, "I don't want to live like that. Isn't there... Isn't there anything I can do?" She opened her wet eyes to look back up at Yamamoto. The old man's whiskers bristled a bit and Orihime almost thought he might have been smiling gently at her.

"The best thing for you to do," he said, hand on his beard, "Would be to continue living as you have been, among humans. Do not be seen without your hairpins. Do not concern yourself with us demons. That includes the classmate of which you seem so enamored."

"Kurosaki-kun," she confirmed. She felt her heart crack painfully in her chest. It should have been plain to her when the old man said she was poisonous that she'd have to give up on him, but she hadn't wanted to face that reality so soon.

"If you care for him, you'll keep clear of him," Yamamoto said solemnly, "He may have a bright future ahead of him, but he is still quite unstable. Any little thing is liable to derail him now. Do you understand?"

Orihime nodded her understanding, biting back her tears. She was completely resolved not to cry in front of this old man; she didn't like others seeing her cry under the best of circumstances, and this certainly didn't qualify for that.

"In that case, Inoue-san," he said, rising and extending a hand to her, "You had best go and rejoin your friends for the time being. And keep what was said here tonight just between the two of us." She took his hand and rose, not meeting his eyes.

"Alright," she said lifelessly, "Thank you, sir."

"Ahh," Yamamoto said, as if he'd just remembered something else, "There's a bathroom just on the right outside here, if you'd like to take a moment to resituate your hairpins there. I wouldn't advise wandering about without them." Orihime nodded limply, barely registering what the old man had just said.

The next few minutes found Orihime leaning over the sink of one of the Kuchiki household's spacious bathrooms, splashing her face with cool water. She had cried a little after she left Yamamoto and didn't want anyone else to notice that her eyes and nose had gotten puffy and red. Now, though, the swelling and redness had subsided a bit, and she felt a bit more able to face her friends.

Using a hand towel that hung from a nearby rack, she patted her face dry, stopping every so often to glance in the bathroom mirror that hung above the sink. She wasn't visibly upset anymore, but her face certainly didn't look as it normally did. She looked tired and forlorn, little bags just starting to form beneath her eyes. It only then occurred to Orihime that she had no idea what time it was; it was definitely late at night, and she had no way of knowing how much time had passed on their trip here. She was suddenly grateful it was Friday; she could sleep as much as she wanted during the weekend. She also wouldn't have to face Ichigo until Monday once she got home.

The thought of Ichigo made her stare blankly at the damp hand towel. How long had she harbored a crush on him, only to have it dashed so soundly and thoroughly in a matter of minutes? And just as he'd finally seemed to be returning her feelings, too. Although that could have just been a trick of her physiology, too, couldn't it? She shoved the depressing, unwanted thoughts back into the back of her mind; if she was harmful to him, if being around her would hurt him, she would just have to bear it.

Resolved, but still very numb, she let the hand towel slide from her fingers back to its place on its hanging rack. The last thing she had to do was to pin her bangs back up before heading out to face the others. She could do it. She could make it home. It wouldn't be easy, but that's all she'd have to do tonight.

In a matter of seconds, she had her bangs pinned back above her ears. Years of practice had made her fast, and before she knew it, her hair was as neat and tidy as it had been that morning before school. With a deep breath, she then headed towards the bathroom door.

Almost as soon as the door clicked shut behind her and she was back out in the hallway, she felt the temperature drop again. Was this what Yamamoto had meant when he said she would be cold in such a place? Did it mean there was a demon nearby?

Orihime's eyes darted from one end of the hallway to the other. They finally came to a stop as she looked in the direction she knew the conference room to be. There, at the far end of the hall, was a lanky man with straight, silver hair, walking towards her. He was dressed from head to toe in a white suit, which combined with his hair, served to make him particularly ghostly and pale. His eyes seemed to be closed, his thin mouth turned up in an unsettling grin. Orihime thought he looked something like a white fox; she imagined that if he were to open his mouth, all his teeth would be pointy.

She shook her head gently. No, that was silly. Not even demons walked around with sharp, pointy shark teeth! Well, not normally, anyway. There was no reason this man would have those, at any rate. Not unless he was actually a kitsune, but they were supposed to be much better at disguise than that, and...

Her train of thought was broken when the smiling man patted her on the head gently. She was sure that beneath his upturned eyelids, he was looking at her now.

"Well, well," he drawled, making Orihime wonder if he didn't have a slight Kansai-ben accent, "You're the little girl everyone's been makin' such a fuss about. Ain't you a cutie?" Orihime stared blankly at him, unsure of how to answer. Something about his presence was incredibly off-putting, but she also felt frozen to the spot. She couldn't help but be reminded of the nature shows she liked to watch so much, how a predator would stare down its prey before striking.

"A-Ahh, th-thank you," she stammered. Suddenly, she wondered if he hadn't sensed her before she'd replaced her hairpins in the bathroom a second ago. Could they even sense her through walls like that? She was sure she was fretting now, and his presence was doing nothing to ease her nervousness.

"Ya look kinda nervous, though," he noted, his smile widening, "You afraid one a us monsters is gonna gobble you up?" Orihime's eyes widened. She may have even squeaked; she wasn't entirely sure. Wasn't this like what Yamamoto was telling her? She grew even more sure that this demon had sensed her from the other room. Her knees were beginning to feel as though they'd give out from underneath her at any second from beneath his stare.

The hand that had been gently patting her head a second ago was now firmly planted beside her on the wall. The white-haired man was leaning closely over her, almost as if he were examining her. He seemed to be taking in her scent, his nose and mouth only a hair's breadth away from the side of her face. Between his arm and his face, his body had formed a cage, causing Orihime to press her back against the wall as she looked up at him. There was nowhere she could retreat to.

"N-No..."

"Gin."

The voice was deep and feminine, and not at all unpleasant. It caused the man's smile to immediately fade into a vague, disinterested expression as he turned to face the speaker. Orihime couldn't help but figure he was trying to disguise his interest in her now that he'd been caught. She then dared take her eyes away from him to see who had spoken.

She was a fairly tall woman with long, wavy honey blond hair and glittering blue eyes. Orihime guessed she was a few centimeters taller than she was herself. She also guessed she was a cup size or two larger than her; the lady's most prominent feature was her generous cleavage. The low cut of her black dress only helped to emphasize this, as did the silver chain running between her breasts and underneath the neckline of the black fabric. Her hands were on her hips in a disapproving manner, her pink stole wending its way around her forearms and sagging behind her back. In fact, aside from being devastatingly pretty, Orihime thought the lady's entire countenance screamed disapproval.

After looking disconcerted for a second, the man's smile returned in full force. Except this time, Orihime thought it looked a bit friendlier, a bit less like a predator. She wondered which he normally was - was this now his true face, friendly and somewhat guarded, but not quite dangerous? Did this mean it was her affecting him before? Would she have to wonder that with every demon she crossed paths with from now on?

"Hey there, Rangiku!" Gin said happily, finally taking his arm away from Orihime's head. She exhaled a breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding. "I didn't see you back there with your boss. You musta been hidin' behind those curtains, too, huh?" The pretty blond looked entirely nonplussed.

"Of course you didn't," she replied, stepping closer, "And of course I'm here with him. Just like you and your... friends." Orihime almost thought she was accusing him of something, but she couldn't tell quite what.

"Haaah, it's just me and Aizen-sama tonight," he replied with a grin, "Well, us and one other guy. But he's not really important." Rangiku folded her arms with a look of bored disbelief.

"And just what were you doing to the human girl?" She cut straight to the point.

"Oh, her?" he asked nonchalantly, "She's just a little lost lamb. I was helping her find her way back to her friends." The blonde didn't look like she really believed him.

"You don't have to go to all that trouble," she said, affecting a bit of sweetness, "They're with my master, after all." To prove her point, she sauntered over and placed herself between Gin and Orihime. The taller woman wrapped a slender hand around Orihime's wrist; her grip was gentle, but firm, and she began to tug Orihime along after her. Orihime stumbled along behind, her feet having stopped working quite correctly after being trapped under Gin's presence for so long.

"Aww, so cold, Rangiku! Don't you trust me?" Orihime looked up to see the older woman roll her eyes as she sauntered away with her, pink stole flapping behind them.

"_Bye_, Gin," she said, not turning to face him as she waved her hand lazily in the air, "Call me up for a drink sometime."

* * *

After Abaddon had left with Orihime, Rukia quickly led Ichigo and Chad back the way they'd come and into her brother's driveway. They'd spent the time in between then and now in uncomfortable silence, barely even looking at each other. Ichigo bridled at the idea of being under Rukia's tutelage, and it was obvious that she wasn't much happier about the situation herself.

Leaning against the outer wall of the manor, just beside the door, Ichigo huffed and folded his arms. He finally decided to speak to her; it might kill time and keep him from worrying himself into an ulcer over Orihime.

"Where'd that Renji guy go?" he finally asked, not deigning to make eye contact. Rukia returned the favor in kind.

"He's with Nii-sama," she replied succinctly. Ichigo snorted.

"Getting punished," he concluded, "Notice you weren't included in that." Rukia's mouth became a thin, angry line as she whipped her head around to face him.

"Do not presume to know the workings of this household, Ichigo," she said coolly. Her voice was deathly calm, but Ichigo could tell he'd touched a raw nerve. As a testament to her irritation, her eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.

"Looks like you just let him hang, to me," he continued unabated. He couldn't resist the opportunity to needle her a bit for all this trouble. He knew he was being a jerk, but at the moment, he couldn't really bring himself to care too much.

"I did no such thing!" Rukia replied, her voice beginning to rise, "By keeping quiet, I allowed him to save face. Regardless of my family, I _am_ his subordinate, just as he is Nii-sama's. How would it look for him if he pushed the responsibility onto me?" Ichigo understood her point, and a certain part of him began to be sympathetic to her and Renji both. After all, if he'd just told the truth to begin with, none of this would've happened. But his own feelings were still too raw, too irritated, to want to let his anger go just yet.

"So they're gonna just punish him for the both of you?" he protested, "Sounds like some screwed up kind of responsibility, if you ask me." There was almost an audible snap beside him; Rukia had finally reached her breaking point.

"You are absolutely insufferable!" She was full-out yelling now. "Do you honestly think Abaddon-sama assigned me to tutor you out of the goodness of his heart?! You, who has no pride in his heritage, who had no idea what he truly was until a week ago? Do you not think I am being punished as we speak? It is only to allow my brother to retain his own pride that it is not called punishment!"

It was like a slap to the face. Her tone, her words, they both made Ichigo's cheeks burn with shame. Was he really that much of a burden? For her part, Rukia looked so angry that she was trembling. Ichigo had no idea what to say to soothe her temper, so he did the only thing he knew for sure how to do - he began to fire back.

"Look, you--" he ground out between clinched teeth. Before he could say anything else and dig himself any deeper, the flat door that they'd come through earlier slammed open.

"Wastin' time fightin' with broads? Wow. How'd a punk like you wind up being a Wraith?"

Ichigo turned to look at the newcomer. He was a tall, muscular demon, standing half a head taller than Ichigo. The driveway lights illuminated the silver skull earring dangling in his ear, and his shocking blue eyes. His hair was the same turquoise color as his eyes, swept back away from his face in turbulent spikes and waves. To contrast it, the hollows underneath his eyes were shaded with a bright green. He favored Ichigo with a feral grin, the little pointed ends of his canines just visible beneath his upper lip.

As he got a better look at him, Ichigo also noticed what he was wearing. It was a long white coat and baggy white slacks, in the same style as the kind-faced brown-haired man that had been sitting at the table inside - Belial-sama, he recalled. Unlike the brunette, though, this man had his sleeves rolled up and his coat flung open, his chest bare except for a wrapping of bandages across his torso.

With a snort, Ichigo wondered if this guy was stuck in the seventies, or if he really thought he was a banchou. He almost expected him to have a pompadour and a wooden sword hidden somewhere in that coat of his.

"Probably the same way you crawled out of a pachinko parlor or a parking lot or something and wound up here," he snorted in return. The blue-haired man's cocky smirk turned sour, transforming into more of a sneer. He latched his thumbs into his pockets and leaned forward, using his height to impose upon Ichigo's personal space.

"Wanna see how I wound up here, kid?" he rumbled through his sharp grin. Ichigo glared back, not flinching. He could tell when someone was trying to intimidate him; he dealt with assholes like this all the time in school. Like hell he was going to back down and let this guy think he could just push him around. That'd be one hell of a sorry way to start things out with these demons; no way was Ichigo going to let himself get pushed to the bottom of the pecking order from the beginning.

"If you think you got the stones--" Ichigo drew up short when he saw another two figures emerge from the darkness behind the blue-haired man. The man himself paused, his face turning blank as his eyes slowly shifted behind him. Ichigo briefly thought he looked like either a victim in a horror movie, or someone who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, or a combination of both.

"Aizen-sama," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly as he ducked his head in a reluctant bow. Ichigo did the same, wondering at the change that had come over the aggressive demon in front of him. He also wondered at the different form of address - was Aizen his name, or was that another title?

"Grimmjow," the warmly smiling brunette acknowledged the blue-haired man, "You weren't causing trouble for our young friend here, were you?" Grimmjow glared balefully at his superior, but neither said nor did anything out of line.

"He was causin' trouble for himself, you ask me," he grumbled. If anything Aizen's smile broadened.

"Now, now," he said soothingly, "We're but guests here, and guests should behave well. Isn't that so, Kuchiki-san?" Rukia started at being addressed so suddenly and stiffened, giving the brunette a perfunctory bow. She didn't rise from it, instead keeping her eyes cast down towards the walkway.

"I-It is as you say, Belial-sama," she said quietly. Ichigo was thoroughly fascinated.

"We'll impose on you no longer," Aizen replied warmly, brushing past the group with a look back over his shoulder. "Come, Grimmjow. Gin."

For the first time, Ichigo really saw the second man who'd been standing in Aizen's shadow; the tall, pale white-haired man wearing a grin as though he was the cat who'd just eaten the canary. Everything about his countenance worried Ichigo for reasons he couldn't quite place. And just where had these two been while everything had been going on inside the conference room?

"And Kurosaki Ichigo," Aizen said, drawing Ichigo out of his reverie, "I look forward to seeing your training progress. Perhaps someday you may even join us in Greed House." Ichigo blinked, surprised. He wouldn't mind serving a guy like that - not at all.

"Thank... Thank you," he stumbled over the words as the white-clad men retreated down the driveway. Just before they were out of earshot, though, the white-haired one turned to look at Ichigo over his shoulder.

"Might wanna keep an eye on your chickadee, kid," Gin said, smiling that same unnerving smile, "She looks like she'll be pretty popular with this crowd, yeah?"

Ichigo's brows furrowed. Chickadee? Was he talking about Inoue? Since when had he seen her? Ichigo wanted to call after them and demand if he'd seen her, but he realized they were now too far away for it.

"Ignore Ichimaru," a hard, bored voice came from beside Ichigo's elbow, "He just wants to get a rise out of you." Ichigo jumped, his earlier irritation forgotten in his surprise. He looked down to see the white-haired kid from the conference room standing beside him, arms folded and scowling.

"You're the kid from before," Ichigo blurted out before realizing it probably wasn't the most polite way to address the head of his new house.

"Amon-sama," Chad said helpfully, as though Ichigo had forgotten. Which he had.

For his part, Amon looked thoroughly nonplussed.

"My name's actually Hitsugaya Toushirou," he replied dryly, "You can call me that, since you're in my house now."

"Sure, Toushirou," Ichigo said, raising his eyebrows. He thought he saw the flicker of a vein on the side of his new master's head.

"I _meant_ you can call me Hitsugaya," the kid replied, "Just because I'm smaller than you doesn't mean you can get so damn familiar." Ichigo grinned; this would be just like teasing Karin. Before he could say anything else, though, two more figures appeared from the shadows of the house.

The first thing to emerge from the shadows was a pair of large, pendulous breasts. They were just the height of Hitsugaya's head; Ichigo realized this because as the smaller demon was glaring at him, the breasts emerged on either side of his ears, effectively muffling his head.

"Captain, I found her!" the cheery blonde woman chirped, holding Orihime's hand in the air.

"Matsumotoooooo!" the tiny demon nearly roared, trying to turn on the taller woman without getting his face stuck in her generous bosom. Ichigo ignored them, drowning out the fussing and laughter, instead focusing on Orihime.

Ichigo couldn't help but think that Orihime looked desperately confused by all the commotion. She was pale and wan, her expression looking slightly shell-shocked. He felt a bit of sympathy lance his chest; she had been kidnapped, jostled around, and had to face down the most powerful demon he'd ever seen, all in one night. And it was all Ichigo's fault.

"Inoue?" His eyebrow twitched up in concern as he called her name, stepping closer towards her. As her eyes landed on his face, it seemed to take her a moment to register that she was even looking at him. Then, her face lit up.

"Kurosaki-kun!" she called, stepping towards him. He thought there was a hint of something desperate in her voice beneath the surface, as though she'd missed him since she was removed from his presence.

Just as soon as he'd noticed it, though, it faded. Orihime's amber eyes widened as if she had recalled something important, and her smile faded into a pained expression. Her eyes flickered off to the side, no longer able to meet his. Somehow, he got the impression that she was holding herself back, for whatever reason.

"Hey," he said gently, smiling for her sake, "You alright?" She laughed a bit then, a nervous, tinkling sound.

"I-I'm fine!" she said, her voice betraying her, "I-If you're ready to go, we should... we should go home, right? It's really late..." Ichigo watched her closely, wondering what had happened while she was with the old man.

"If you would like," Rukia said, interrupting the flow of Ichigo's thoughts, "Our driver can take you home. Ichigo, Sado, I will see both of you Monday morning." Orihime quickly took the opportunity to use this as a distraction, smiling broadly as she turned to Rukia.

"Oh, thank you, Kuchiki-san!" she said, her voice sounding just a bit too fast, "I'm really tired, s-so we should get going! Right?"

"It's... nothing," Rukia said, apparently taken aback by the auburn-haired girl's friendliness.

"When you get out of school Monday," Hitsugaya chimed in, having extricated himself from his blonde assistant's bosom, "Kuchiki can bring you both to our House. We'll start training you then."

Ichigo nodded, choosing to say nothing of the fact that Urahara had already been training him for the past week. He silently wondered if the shopkeeper would continue to do so; with a rueful thought, he realized he probably needed all the training he could get.

"Bring your friend with you when you come," Matsumoto chimed in happily, "She can keep me company while you train!"

And with that, just as quickly as they'd been shuffled into the Kuchiki manor, the three visitors were shuffled right back off again.


	8. Chapter 8: Another Day

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 8 - Another Day

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

* * *

The weekend passed without incident.

Saturday morning, Ichigo slipped out of his house before his sisters or father could question him and made his way to Urahara's shop. The older demon was, of course, curious as to how everything had turned out, and Ichigo found that after spending a week with him, he felt as though he did owe him an explanation of his current situation.

"So that's it, huh?" he said thoughtfully, after Ichigo had told him the whole story, "You're going to actually be a noble now, in a house of your own. With a friend, even! Saa, I guess you don't need this old man anymore, hmm?" Something about his tone told Ichigo that he wasn't exactly serious, but he felt he should comment on it nonetheless.

"That's not true," he protested evenly, "Besides, I'd rather learn from you than that belligerent midget." His arms crossed with a huff.

"Ora ora," Urahara replied, waving his paper fan lazily in front of himself, "Give Kuchiki-san the benefit of the doubt, Kurosaki-san. I doubt she's as bad as you seem to think she is. Besides, a mentor relationship can be very important." Ichigo rolled his eyes; he wasn't in the mood for a speech on the value of community or whatever.

"I can get that from the people in my House," he grumbled, unmoved. Urahara leaned back on his hands, his countenance also seemingly unimpressed.

"It's not quite the same," the older demon returned, "Besides, the Kuchiki name is a good one. I'm not exactly someone you can just go around sharing your association with to all and sundry, you know." Ichigo raised an eyebrow at this admission.

"What does that mean?" he asked, incredulous, "You did some bad deals or something? Owe someone money?" Urahara chuckled behind his fan.

"No, no, nothing of the sort," he waved the fan dismissively, "I'm just not on the best of terms with the noble houses. Let's leave it at that." Ichigo decided that answers on the topic weren't going to be forthcoming and decided to let it drop for the day.

"Whatever," Ichigo dismissed the topic with the barest hint of frustration, "I gotta get home now. I'm probably going to catch hell from my Dad over this as it is." He scratched the back of his head, sighing. Even though Urahara had said he'd taken care of the situation, he wasn't looking forward to facing his father in the least.

"Ah, I did have a question for you about last night," Urahara interrupted as Ichigo got to his feet from the cushion on which he'd been sitting. An expression of neutral curiosity replaced Ichigo's normal scowl.

"What is it?" His tone was even now, no longer irritated or short-tempered.

"You said the girl's name was Inoue, correct?" Ichigo's expression immediately turned flat and somewhat distant. Great, another weirdo interested in Orihime. He was going to have to speak to her about talking to strange people; they certainly didn't get much stranger than Urahara Kisuke in Ichigo's book.

"Yeah, that's her name," Ichigo huffed, "Don't tell me _you_ want something to do with her now, too." Urahara dismissed him with a broad smile and a wave of his fan.

"No, no," he said lightly, "It's just a name I heard around here a few years ago! I believe I once had an Inoue as one of my customers, actually. Why don't you bring her by sometime?" Ichigo continued to look thoroughly nonplussed at this suggestion.

"I'll see what I can do," he said in a flat tone, "But you'd better not try anything weird on her."

"So cold, Kurosaki-san!" Urahara mock-whined, "I promise I'll be on my best behavior!"

* * *

Oddly enough, Isshin didn't actually say anything to Ichigo about his week-long disappearance. Whatever Urahara told him must have been effective, because it was like he hadn't even been gone a day. He treated him with the same goofy attitude, the same whacked out attacks, and the same annoying volume as ever. Yuzu followed suit, but Ichigo couldn't help but notice that Karin looked like she wasn't buying any of this.

Nothing was said, though. Sunday passed like any other Sunday with the exception of Ichigo scrambling to complete a pile of schoolwork that had accumulated for him over his absence. Presumably, Chad had dropped it off after walking Orihime home from school each day.

And so it was that Monday morning, he trudged bleary-eyed back to his classroom, this time with his inhibitor firmly in place around his wrist.

The first thing that Ichigo noticed upon opening the door to the classroom was that his friends - Chad, Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki, and their group - were engaged in their normal conversation. This morning, however, he noticed a small, black head bobbing through their midst. His molars ground together silently as he realized exactly who was now taking up space among his classmates.

"Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!" Rukia chirped with a small wave.

"Ichigo, you already know her?" Keigo asked, his voice just an octave below a whine, "First Orihime-chan, now this? You're so cruel! Player!"

And that was when Ichigo noticed it.

The aforementioned redhead hadn't acknowledged him since he'd entered the room, instead talking in hushed tones with Tatsuki. As his eyes lighted on her, he noticed that Orihime's expression was subdued and meek, as though she was tired or sick. It might have been his imagination, but he also thought she looked a bit paler than usual, too.

Before he could say anything, though, her honey-colored eyes flickered up briefly to catch his. He realized too late that he was staring open-mouthed at her, no longer even attempting to hide his curiosity. Just as quickly as her eyes had met his, though, they flicked back towards the floor, heavy-lidded. He watched her lashes veil her downcast eyes as she said something quietly to Tatsuki and moved quickly to her seat.

Tatsuki cast Ichigo a look that he couldn't quite make out - was it concern or pity? - as he looked at her awkwardly and somewhat helplessly. At least she wasn't angry or threatening him, but what about Orihime? She didn't _look_ mad, but she certainly didn't look thrilled to see him, either. That realization lanced him, a small pinch of pain rising unbidden in his chest. Was it possible she blamed him for Friday night? Would Orihime even do something like that?

The world started moving again as Ichigo registered Keigo's continued wailing. He cast the sandy-haired boy a stern look, which did nothing to curtail his temper-tantrum.

"Did you have a fight with Orihime-chan, Ichigo?" the thinner boy asked, causing Ichigo's eye to twitch, "You dumped her, didn't you? You're so cold-hearted! Don't worry, Orihime-chan, I'll comfort you in your time of n-" Luckily for all involved, Tatsuki cuffed him in the back of the head before he could do or say anything else humiliating.

"Settle down, Keigo," she ordered, causing Ichigo to give a relieved sigh as he plopped down in his seat by the window. As the bell rang, he glanced into the glass to see if he could catch a glimpse of Orihime a few seats back from him. She seemed to be worrying her bottom lip, eyes lidded as she fidgeted with her small hands. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, maybe even apologize for all the trouble he'd caused her.

The morning passed at a crawl. Ichigo found himself paying less attention to the lessons in front of him than to the window beside his head and the girl reflected in it. More than once that morning, Ochi-sensei had beaned him with a piece of chalk and sarcastically apologized that her class wasn't as interesting as the pigeons outside.

The only thing that broke the monotony was when Ichigo would feel a sharp gaze land on him from time to time. The one time he looked up to see who was giving him the evil eye, his gaze collided with narrowed, cobalt blue eyes. He snorted derisively in Ishida's direction before turning back to the far more interesting window, knowing he wouldn't dare start anything in the middle of class. Let him keep giving him nasty looks; right now, he had more important things on his mind.

So when the lunch bell finally rang, Ichigo began moving instinctively towards Orihime's desk. She was distracted with packing up for lunch, but when her eyes caught his at last, he registered the fret that consumed her face as she quickly looked down to her desk. This was driving him mad, but he figured that as soon as he could talk to her and find out what was wrong, he could finally relax.

He never made it quite that far, though. A thin, firm hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Ichigo suppressed the urge to growl at the intrusion, but when he turned to see who was invading his personal space _this_ time, he was surprised to see someone other than Rukia.

"Can I have a word with you, Kurosaki?" Ishida asked, his voice as cold as bare steel. While under normal circumstances Ichigo would've gladly went a couple rounds with the bespectacled archer on the roof of the school, today was not exactly a day that he felt like humoring his classmate's aggression.

"Piss off, Ishida," he said dismissively, swatting the hand at his shoulder away, "I've got more important things to take care of." But as he turned back to call to Orihime, his eyes landed on her empty desk. She'd already taken her things and went to sit with the girls in a different part of the classroom. Ichigo felt like hitting something. Well, maybe Ishida would be useful after all.

"Dammit all," he huffed, turning back to the black haired boy behind him, "Fine, what do you want?"

The next few minutes found Ichigo confronting Ishida in the empty locker room just a few doors down from their homeroom. There was almost an electric current between the two boys, a palpable chill in the air as they faced each other down. It occurred to Ichigo that it was probably because they were natural-born enemies. A demon and a demon hunter, there couldn't be a worse match anywhere.

"What do you want?" Ichigo repeated impatiently, "I'm missing lunch for this, you know." It wasn't that he was particularly hungry; it was just that hanging out with Ishida wasn't his idea of an ideal lunch break.

"I don't know how you managed to get away from those constables," Ishida said sternly, crossing his arms across his chest, "But don't think I've forgotten. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Inoue-san." Ichigo could've sworn he felt the fuse ignite in the back of his head.

"I 'got away' because they finally figured out that I never did anything to her!" Ichigo almost roared, maintaining just enough self-control to keep from shouting, "Where do you get off being so familiar with her, any damn way? What do you even know about her?" At this point, his fist was curled around Ishida's school tie, nearly lifting him off his feet. The black-haired boy's stony gaze didn't waver, though.

"More than you do, I'd wager," he said coldly, "I've known her for months through the Handicraft's Club. Which is more than I can say for _someone_ who seemed to barely register she existed until a week and a half ago." Ichigo dropped Ishida's tie, perhaps stung a bit by the biting accusation. He hadn't _just_ noticed her; he'd known Orihime for years, hadn't he? Ever since she'd brought her dying brother to his father's clinic three years ago, if he was to be perfectly honest with himself. And she was best friends with Tatsuki, whom he'd known since they were both children. So it wasn't like she was a complete stranger; he just couldn't think of anything to say to her all that often.

"You don't know that," Ichigo said, his voice nearly a growl, "I can't say we've always been close, but I've always known she's there." There was a snappish quality to his words, almost like a wounded animal.

"And that's why she's avoiding you today?" Ishida asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a 'clink'. Ichigo fought down the urge to wring his skinny neck for picking at an open wound like that.

"Well, I would've asked her if _someone_ hadn't interrupted me!" Ichigo snapped, giving in to the urge to harass Ishida a little now, "Look, I read last week's history lesson over the weekend. Don't take it out on me because your family lost a fight four hundred years ago!"

At the mention of the lesson, Ishida snapped to attention, his spine now ramrod straight. There was a cool glint in his eyes that told Ichigo that he'd plucked a nerve just then. Well, good - he'd been strumming on Ichigo's nerves for quite a few minutes this afternoon.

"That has nothing to do with this situation!" Ishida protested hotly, not even bothering to disguise his raw irritation, "This is about doing my duty as a Quincy and protecting an innocent human girl from your filthy kind!"

Ichigo could overlook the remark about 'his' kind; there was no point in expecting a demon hunter to like or respect demons. No, it was that Ishida seemed to think that Orihime needed protection from him as if he was some kind of wild animal. As if he'd ever done anything remotely untoward or hurtful to her. Ichigo's face burnt as he recalled that maybe he _had_ been irrationally tempted to do strange things to her once or twice, but that wasn't the point here. The point was that he _hadn't_ done those things, nor would he ever.

"I think that's Inoue's decision," Ichigo hissed, his temperature rising, "If she wants you to protect her from me, she can ask you to and I'll gladly back off. Until then, maybe _you're_ the one who should back the hell off." Ishida's eyes flashed cold fury as he leaned forward to respond.

"Ishida-san."

The voice coming from the doorway was soft and feminine, and completely unfamiliar to Ichigo. He couldn't help but think that it had a strange, unsettling quality to it, too, almost a hypnotizing monotone. He saw Ishida look over his shoulder, past him and towards the door of the locker room. Turning to follow his line of sight, he saw the girl who'd called to his unwanted companion.

She was fairly tall; that was the first thing Ichigo noticed. Her heart-shaped face was complimented by her straight bangs, a sprig of inky black hair escaping her long braid and framing her round cheeks on either side. Her entire bearing bespoke her docile, humble nature; it was so evident that it was almost like she was wearing it as a garment. In fact, the only thing that Ichigo thought kept this girl from being a completely traditional Japanese beauty were her startling green eyes, and even those were heavily-lidded in a demure fashion.

"Nemu-san?" Ishida replied, shedding his aggressive stance instantly as he addressed her, "What is it?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow at this girl's affect on the archer in front of him. He'd never even heard him address anyone familiarly, yet he was on a first name basis with this girl? And he had the nerve to lecture him about Orihime?

"Player," he snorted quietly, not bothering to hide the slight amusement in his tone. Ishida cast him a chilly glare.

"I require your assistance with our pre-calculus assignment," the girl referred to as Nemu said in her strange, rhythmic monotone, "I am having difficulty with the logarithm in problem ten." Ichigo realized this was really the first time he'd ever heard this girl speak an entire sentence. She was usually preternaturally quiet in class; he had only ever heard her speak when called upon by the teachers, and even then it was so quiet he could barely register her answers. But now that he'd heard her, her speech seemed... stilted somehow. Unnatural. And yet, it was still pleasant enough to listen to. Ichigo cocked his head to the side curiously and watched as Ishida gave her his full attention.

"I'll be back to class in a moment, Nemu-san," Ishida said gently, "Please go ahead without me." The girl gave him a nod and a small bow before letting the locker room door swing shut behind her. As her calming presence slid out of the locker room, Ishida gave Ichigo one more look over his shoulder before moving to follow her.

"This isn't over between us," he said in a low voice, "Just keep in mind what I said, Kurosaki." And with that, he disappeared from the locker room, leaving Ichigo to stew from his insults as well as wonder at the odd scene between him and that Nemu girl.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Ichigo grabbed a shoe from a nearby unlocked locker and flung it full-force into the door Ishida had just gone through.

* * *

As the seconds drug by and the hands of the clock approached the three o'clock position with glacial slowness, Orihime rested her cheek upon her hand and sighed. She briefly wondered if the entire classroom had fallen into a time warp for the day, time had been passing so slowly.

It wasn't just that time was slowing down around her; it was that her mind was full of thoughts and her tummy was full of butterflies, the _bad_ kind. The kind that took up residence in the pit of her stomach and splashed the digestive fluid in there around, making her stomach ache with nerves. They'd been so bad that she hadn't been able to eat much at lunch, either. So now she was a strange combination of hungry and not hungry; clearly, the butterflies had played around in her stomach to the point that it was now full of gurgling stomach acid. Stupid butterflies.

Worse yet, every time she looked at Ichigo (or rather, the back of Ichigo's head, since he sat a few seats in front of her), that gnawing ache would hit again and her stomach would flip-flop. She'd hear Yamamoto's words again in her head and it would become just that much more painful.

Poisonous. Inherently attractive. Dangerous. How could she be selfish enough to even want Ichigo to look at her after that? And he had looked at her, she knew; she could tell he was worried, but she couldn't bring herself to talk to him or even look him right in the eye for too long. Every time she even thought about it, her stomach and her heart would ache again and she'd quickly retreat. She vaguely wondered if maybe there was now a crack in her heart - did doctors fix things like that?

The 'kin kon' of the school bell jolted Orihime out of her curiosity about whether she could get her cracked and broken heart replaced with a newer, stronger cybernetic model. As she looked up, she realized class had finally ended for the day and her classmates were gathering their things and steadily filing out.

It was then that it struck her; Chad wouldn't be walking her home today. Even if it was safe for him to be around her, and for all she knew it _wasn't_, both he and Ichigo were going with Rukia to their new House. The white-haired boy - she thought Rangiku had called him 'Captain' - was going to be their new boss. Part of her, a very large part actually, wanted to go with them and see them off. But the other part of her knew that she didn't belong there, among their kind, in their new lives. But then, where _did_ she belong now?

"Orihime?" Tatsuki asked gently, placing her hand on the back of the auburn-haired girl's chair. Her honey-colored eyes flickered up to her friend's woody brown ones, noting the concern reflected back at her. Immediately, she plastered the biggest fake smile she could muster onto her face and favored Tatsuki with it.

"Tatsuki-chan!" she chirped somewhat unsteadily in reply, "I was just about to pack up and go home!" She didn't want her friend to worry too much; she had already figured out she was distressed this morning, and probably realized it was over Ichigo. If there was one thing she didn't want to do at this point, it was to cause Tatsuki to pummel him.

"Need someone to walk you home?" Tatsuki asked gently. Orihime almost answered her affirmatively, but then stopped short, her mouth hanging open oddly. Could she be selfish enough to ask Tatsuki to walk her home when she herself was a walking target for any badly behaved demons in the area? She knew Tatsuki could defend herself against human boys twice her size, but against something that had powers and a super-durable body? Orihime's eyes faltered for a second as she realized that she couldn't even be around Tatsuki as much as she'd like now.

And then the smile was firmly back in place as Orihime banished that flicker of sadness to the back of her mind.

"No, that's okay! I have too many errands to run, and I know you have stuff to do," she said, hoping she imagined the undertone of sadness she thought she'd accidentally left in her words. Tatsuki looked concerned, but didn't press the point, so Orihime considered it good enough for now.

Several minutes later, after gathering her things and dodging Chizuru and Keigo's attentions, Orihime found herself outside in the courtyard of the school. As she trundled down the chipped concrete path, she noticed a small gathering near the school gates getting ready to depart. Yes, there was the tall, silent brunette she'd grown accustomed to following her everywhere, and the short black-haired girl that she'd only recently spoken to. And tripping up as though he was late, the red-haired boy that, up until Friday night, she had dreamed of being lucky enough to share her life with. Orihime thought that pesky crack in her heart was hurting again; maybe a piece had even chipped off just then.

She didn't know why she did it. But as they turned to go past the gates, she put one foot in front of the other and went in the same direction she had just watched them go.

* * *

"So this is it, huh?" Ichigo asked, his hands folded behind his head as he looked up past the black wrought iron gate and brick fence to the Victorian mansion set behind a copse of trees. The house itself looked incredibly out of place in the surrounding Japanese neighborhood, and Ichigo wondered exactly how long it had been there. Weren't those sorts of things popular a century ago when the country was still Westernizing?

"Yes," Rukia replied, punching an identification number into a keypad set against the brick of the wall holding the iron gate, "They are expecting us. Once we are inside, Amon-sama will introduce you properly to your Housemates."

Ichigo vaguely wondered what a house full of Wraiths would be like. An old Victorian mansion wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting. Maybe something more industrial? A dojo? He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't it.

As the gates swung open with a creak belying their age, the trio started up the walkway to the front of the manse. The yard was carefully manicured, but it seemed very barren to Ichigo, sterile almost. Sure, there was grass and trees, tall cypress and a few oak, but there was nothing aesthetic about it. A few privet bushes surrounded the house, but if there were flowers or landscaping of any kind, it was too early in the year for Ichigo to be able to tell. Maybe there was more to the lawn behind the house, but he doubted it.

"Not exactly big on looks, are they?" Ichigo asked nonchalantly, trying to at least get Rukia to talk to him. Things had naturally been awkward for the both of them since they left school, leaving Chad to look on in passive dismay. If he was going to be stuck with her, the least he could do was _try_ to get on good terms with her.

"There is no need for such frivolities with the Wraiths," Rukia said evenly, "They are not like the Superbia, for whom appearance is a matter of pride." Ichigo raised an eyebrow; the matter-of-fact way she said it wasn't condescending, at least. It was simply a statement, in much the same way as one would comment on the color of the sky or the weather.

"Ehh, who cares what others think," Ichigo mused, folding his arms behind his head again, schoolbag dangling down his back, "I guess they're not here to look pretty, huh?" They were approaching the front porch of the house now and Ichigo couldn't help feeling a bit excited. Would this be like the first day of school all over again?

His curiosity was soon quelled when they rang the doorbell. After a few moments, a petite black-haired girl with her hair pulled into a cloth-covered bun swung one of the large, wooden double-doors inward.

"Oh!" she said softly, glittering brown eyes widening, "You must be the new recruits! Hitsugaya-kun is waiting for you!" Rukia's eyebrows arched at the familiar form of address as the girl stepped aside to lead them into the high-ceilinged foyer, but she said nothing.

As they stepped past the door, though, they could see the girl just a bit better. Her outfit, while as black as her hair, was much more playful than had been apparent at first. Her top was a black silk kimono accented with slightly darker butterflies, the sleeves dangling down to her hips. The collar beneath was plain, silky white to contrast, as was her simply tied obi. The skirt of her outfit, however, was entirely western. It ruffled and swished as she walked, coming just short of her knees, a row of white lace and frill shyly peeking out beneath the black overskirt. Beneath that were black kneesocks with white lace and ribbons, ending in a pair of shiny black Mary Janes. And on top of all of this, she wore a black lace choker; if Ichigo had to guess, he'd say that was her inhibitor.

Ichigo idly thought the girl looked like she'd just come back from a day trip to Harujuku.

"Please come right this way," she said with a big smile and a small bow, "I'm Hinamori Momo, one of the officers here. It's nice to meet you!" Ichigo and Chad both responded with bows of their own.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Sado Yasutora."

"Please follow me, Kurosaki-kun, Sado-kun!" Momo favored them with a bright smile before turning with a swish of her skirts to face a large staircase. As Ichigo watched her go, he realized this was the first time he'd really noticed the interior of the house. It was as old fashioned as the outside, all dark, polished hardwood flooring and Persian rugs and fainting couches. A large grandfather clock sat ticking away in a corner; a large, black grand piano was situated in another. The tall cathedral ceiling of the foyer was hung with an elaborate crystal chandelier; as they walked towards the staircase, Ichigo noticed the small pools of light it reflected onto the floors.

Up the curling staircase and down another richly decorated hall they went, Momo leading the way. Her heavy shoes made firm noises against the blue and gold runner that had been rolled down the hallway. Finally, she came to a stop before a heavy wooden door. Unlike the ones in the Kuchiki manor, Ichigo noticed that this one was almost nondescript in comparison.

The cheerful girl dropped a knock on the thick door and leaned towards it, cupping a hand around her mouth.

"Hitsugaya-kun!" she called cheerfully, "Your new recruits are here!"

Almost as soon as the words had left her mouth, the door swung inward to reveal the irritated boy Ichigo had seen Friday night. Looking past him, he could see a dimly lit study that looked just a bit too old fashioned for a kid like him. All the way across the room he could even see a large wooden desk strewn with papers that looked about two times too big for the kid. As for Hitsugaya himself, he was dressed almost exclusively in black. If Ichigo had to guess, he'd say he was wearing a junior high gakuran. Did heads of house have to go to school, too?

"Hinamori," the white-haired youth grumbled, scratching the back of his head in aggravation, "It's Hitsugaya-_taichou_ now." For some reason, it sounded like this was the hundredth time he'd reminded her.

"Sorry," she replied, blushing a bit, "I guess I'm still not used to it." His only response was a long suffering sigh.

"Just keep it in mind." Then, turning to address the new recruits, "Kurosaki, Sado, Kuchiki. Thanks for coming. We can go downstairs now, if you're ready."

Before anyone could move, however, the noise of high heels clicking rapidly against the floor came barreling towards the group. As they turned as one to investigate the source of the noise, Ichigo's jaw dropped.

"Captaaaaaaaaaaaaain~!"

It was the blonde from Friday night, Matsumoto. She was wearing a similar dress to the other night, black velvet, clingy and floor-length. And of course, there was the same deep gash that reached almost to her navel revealing her generous bust and the silver chain nestled deep in the middle of it. Fluttering behind her was the pink stole Ichigo had seen last week, as well.

It wasn't what Matsumoto was wearing, however, that concerned him. No, that would've been what she was dragging along behind her.

"I-Inoue?" he sputtered, fairly sure his cheeks were on fire, "Why are you here?" The poor girl looked like she might die of embarrassment as Matsumoto drug her to a halt and then proceeded to wrap her long, thin arms around her shoulders to give her a squeeze.

"I... I don't know, I was going home and I guess I started following behind you and before I knew it I was here and I-I'm really sorry, Kurosaki-kun, I'll just go and-" Before she could babble any more, though, Matsumoto cut her off.

"Don't be silly!" the older woman said, a look of glee on her blue-eyed face, "I invited you Friday, remember?" She then turned to the head of house with her same winning smile.

"Captain! Can I keep her?"


	9. Chapter 9: Reconciliation

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 9 - Reconciliation

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST.... yuri.

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note:** Well, I've had some bad luck with my car this weekend, which meant I couldn't go to work tonight. On the up side, though, that means I get to stay home and work on this fic! Which means I'm getting another chapter out relatively quickly! Woohoo!

Wish me luck in getting a new car, though!

* * *

"Matsumoto, humans aren't pets."

It was a simple enough observation, Ichigo thought. He watched as the white-haired boy's eye twitched in irritation. Idly, Ichigo thought he'd develop an ulcer by the time he was twenty.

"But Captaaaaain!"

Ichigo wanted to run over and shove the pouty older woman off of Orihime. Something about this situation made him uncomfortable; he might not know much about being a demon, but he was smart enough to know that there was something about Orihime that other demons liked a little bit too well. Instead, he just stood there awkwardly, sending the auburn-haired girl an apologetic look.

Orihime looked just as uncomfortable as Ichigo felt. Her eyebrows were arched in a helpless expression of embarrassment, and her mouth turned down in a small frown. Her face was washed with bright pink; whether it was from getting caught sneaking around or from the way Matsumoto was hugging her, Ichigo couldn't tell.

The head of house's frustrated sigh broke Ichigo's attention from the overly friendly blonde demon before him.

"We're busy, Matsumoto," Hitsugaya said, raking his fingers through his short, white hair, "Why don't you give her a tour of the house while we discuss things with these two?" Ichigo couldn't help but think he was trying to get her out from underfoot. And yet, he couldn't help a small feeling of disappointment; he knew this wasn't the time or the place, but he really did want to talk to Orihime and make sure she was alright. And yes, part of him even wanted to know for sure that she wasn't angry at him. His stomach did a weak little flip at the thought.

"Ah-!" the busty blonde exclaimed, pale blue eyes lighting up her whole face, "Captain is so smart! Come on, Orihime-chan - I'll show you the dining hall and the bathrooms! They're really nice!" She released the younger girl's neck and shoulders from her grasp before taking her hand and leading her away. As she went, she cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder at Ichigo; it only lasted a second before the both of them disappeared down the stairs. Well, hopefully they'd be able to talk after this business was done.

"Now that that's out of the way," the white-haired boy grumbled, "I'll take you to meet some of your housemates."

* * *

The sounds of water echoed throughout the huge bathhouse that Rangiku had led Orihime to. The auburn-haired girl looked wide-eyed around the spacious room, marveling at how different it was from the rest of the house. She had expected something more Victorian, perhaps a claw-footed bathtub with gold faucets. What she found instead was a huge Japanese-style wash room big enough for several people at once with several large tubs set into the floor with all different temperatures of water. The room was covered in pale blue tile, tasteful potted plants in strategic places along the walls. There was even a lavish waterfall along one wall.

Rangiku ran ahead, spreading her arms in welcome as though the entire room belonged to her.

"Ne, ne, isn't it wonderful?" she asked, failing to contain her excitement, "I had the Captain build it for us so we'd have a nice place to relax after training!"

For a moment, Orihime forgot her nerves and just took in her steamy surroundings. It was wonderful and briefly made her embarrassed by her own tiny tub at home. Then she thought of how amazing it would be to actually get to use a bathroom like this. Would Ichigo go to one just like this when he was done today? For a moment, she pictured him reclining against the edge of one of the large tubs in front of her and a bright blush snaked across her face.

"I-It must be wonderful to get to use it," she stammered, her embarrassment peeking through. As soon as she said it, though, she felt ashamed. Rangiku would think she was whining and she definitely didn't want the older woman to feel sorry for her.

Instead, the blonde began to take her shoes off.

"What are you talking about?" she asked with a warm smile, "You can use it too, you know. You _are_ Ichigo's girlfriend, right? That means you're practically family!" Orihime's face felt as though it was on fire.

"M-Me?!" she sputtered, hiding her face behind her hands, "N-no way, we're just friends!" Rangiku looked somewhat disappointed as she dropped her stole onto the bench she'd placed her shoes beneath.

"Really?" she said, pulling the straps of her dress down to reveal her well-endowed chest. Orihime was so mortified by the conversation that she hardly even registered that the older woman was stripping. "That's too bad. You'd be cute together! Have you asked him about it?"

"I-I couldn't do that!" Orihime squawked, "It's illegal, right? A-And besides, Yamamoto-sama said I should stay away from him!" Rangiku looked at her for a few seconds, blinking in confusion. Then she started laughing. Orihime could even see little tears in the corners of her eyes. She was beginning to feel extremely silly.

"Wh-what's so funny?"

"Oh, _him_," Rangiku said, wiping her eyes, "Don't listen to him, Orihime-chan. He's old and stuffy and I'm sure that cane he carries is lodged somewhere it shouldn't be half the time. Plenty of demons have human girlfriends on the downlow. Although that's usually Incubi and not Wraiths..." Orihime blinked in surprise at this revelation; hadn't Ichigo gotten in trouble just for being around her?

"But... Kurosaki-kun got in trouble because of me..." she continued feebly. At this point, though, she felt like she was making excuses in the face of Rangiku's overwhelming mirth.

"Oh, that wasn't because they thought you were dating," Rangiku said, walking over and enveloping Orihime in a squishy hug, "They thought he'd Marked you -- ahh, they thought he'd bitten you. We actually _aren't_ supposed to do that. Human blood is bad for us." Orihime blushed as the taller woman's naked breasts enveloped her; she thought about correcting her on the human bit, but wasn't exactly sure what to say, so she let it drop.

"O-Okay," she replied, the regular color returning to her face, "If you're sure it's alright..." Hugging Rangiku, she realized, was rather nice. She was soft and smelled nice and it had been a very long time since anyone had comforted her physically like this. As she thought about it, the last person to give her such a soothing hug was probably her brother, before he died.

"Of course it is," the blonde said, dropping a small kiss on top of Orihime's head, "Now get out of those clothes and come take a bath with me!" Orihime blushed furiously as the blonde demon released her and began to slide her dress over her hips.

"I-I can't, that's--" she stammered as Rangiku's dress slid down to reveal a stringy pair of black lace panties, "That's too much, Rangiku-san! I can't impose like that!" As the older woman added the discarded dress to her pile of clothes and went after her panties next, she gave Orihime a grin.

"Don't be silly," she said cheerfully, "You look like you could use a bath and we have to find some way to kill time while Hitsugaya-taichou is indoctrinating those two!" As soon as her panties were added to the clothing pile and her hair was secured atop her head, she stepped over and started undoing Orihime's school necktie.

"I-I haven't taken a bath with anyone since I was a little kid," she admitted weakly as the older woman stared on the row of buttons on her blouse, "But I guess it's okay since we're both girls..." Rangiku smiled and let her take over the unbuttoning of her shirt as she placed an expressive finger beside her face.

"Exactly!" she chirped, "It's totally fine!"

Satisfied that Orihime was going to undress and then join her, Rangiku turned and made her way to one of the tubs with steam rising off the top. Orihime watched her gather a bucket with scrubbers and different bath soaps and the like on her way over to the water. Just as Rangiku stepped in, Orihime was shedding her school skirt. In another few seconds, she was completely naked as well, tying her hair up on top of her head. She had to resist the urge to run over to the amazingly large tub; if she were totally honest with herself, she really _did_ want to see what it was like to take a bath in something that huge.

As she made her way over to the tub, she covered her breasts with her hands, remembering something of her modesty. Rangiku did no such thing, though; she plopped down into the water just as easily as if she was fully clothed.

"What are you being shy for?" she asked up to the younger girl happily, "Come on, come on!" Orihime did as she said, stepping lightly into the water. It was almost hot enough to scald, but she liked hot baths, so that wasn't a problem. It was certainly hotter than the hot water heater in her apartment gave her.

"Ahh-!" she exclaimed, sinking down to her breasts in the deliciously hot water, "It's really nice!" Rangiku grinned, squeezing a sponge in Orihime's general direction.

"See? What did I tell you?" she said, smiling, "It's even better to take a bath with another person, though! Here, turn around and I'll wash your back!" Orihime obliged, turning her back to the older woman. Another second passed before she began happily scrubbing her back.

"Uwah, you're really good at this, Rangiku-san!" Orihime chirped, turning to look over her shoulder at the other woman.

"I love baths, so it's only natural that I'd be good at them," she replied firmly, as though it was the most sensible thing in the world. For her part, Orihime sighed; the hot water and sponge on her back were soaking her tension away. After the day she'd had, it felt nice to relax.

"Well, that part's done," Rangiku said cheerfully, "Now lift up your arms!"

"My arms?" Orihime parroted, confused.

"Up, up!" Rangiku slipped her hands underneath Orihime's arms, causing her to lift them. Before she could protest, the older woman was swabbing her breasts with the wet sponge. It was almost as if she was giving extra attention to the pert pink nipples that were starting to stand out against the sponge.

"Your breasts are so cute," she cooed, cupping them with a little squeeze, "I've wanted to see how they compare to mine since I first saw them!" She seemed to be weighing them with her hands for a moment before moving on to caressing the nipples. They stiffened beneath her hands, causing a blush to spread across Orihime's cheeks.

"R-Rangiku-san!" Orihime squeaked, the other woman causing her to squirm as she rolled the little pink pearls between her fingers. It was the oddest sensation, more intense than when Chizuru grabbed her at school during the day. It was even doing funny things to her stomach, and lower.

"It's alright, right?" Rangiku giggled, "You look like you need to relax. Besides, you do things like this, don't you?" When Orihime shook her head nervously, Rangiku looked scandalized.

"Never? Not even a little?" she asked, voice full of awe, "Not even by yourself?" Orihime's cheeks burned as the older woman gave her another firm squeeze.

"N-No," she admitted hesitantly, "I don't even know how... how to do things like that." She turned her head to see the blonde pouting at her.

"That's so sad," Rangiku said, voice all full of sympathy, "Don't worry, Orihime-chan! I'll teach you!" She pulled the younger girl back against her generous breasts with a splash, allowing one hand to travel down to her stomach and lower.

"R-R-Rangiku-san!" she sputtered, face burning brightly more from Rangiku than from the hot water in the tub, "A-Are you sure this is okay?!" Rangiku's face suddenly got very serious.

"Okay?" she asked, her voice sounding a bit offended, "It had better be more than okay! I have a reputation to uphold!" Orihime squeaked as the older woman's fingers slipped down through her unruly auburn curls and into the cleft at the junction of her thighs.

"Reputation?" she asked dubiously, "What kind of reputation?" Rangiku simply smiled warmly and gave Orihime another gentle squeeze.

"Well, I'm a Succubus, so this is kind of my calling, you know?" Orihime blushed fiercely as the older woman's fingers found purchase against the soft, warm skin between her legs. Her head swam with this new information; wasn't this what Chizuru was always compared to? Rangiku was different than what she expected a Succubus to be, though; she was warm and almost motherly, even comforting with her touch.

"Y-You are?" she asked hesitantly as the older woman drew her back against her chest and slowly began moving the fingers on her hand that had trailed lower. Orihime gasped as she felt the pads of Rangiku's fingers press against a small bundle of flesh and nerves; the pleasure shot through her veins, warming her just a bit more than the water around them.

"Don't sound so surprised!" Rangiku said, pouting as she moved her fingers, "Here, let's start here!" She pinched the quickly hardening knot she'd been toying with until then, causing Orihime's hips to involuntarily move towards her hand.

"This is your clitoris," she explained, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger for effect, "It feels really good when I touch it like that, ne? You can come just by playing with it enough. Did you know that?" Orihime shook her head, maybe a little too quickly.

"I-I don't... know what that's like," she admitted quietly, suddenly very embarrassed by her inexperience. Rangiku was once again scandalized.

"You've never..." Before she could finish the sentence, determination lit her face. "That's it! I'm going to give Orihime-chan her first orgasm!"

"Ran-Rangiku-san!" Orihime squeaked, her body red more from embarrassment than the heat of the water. It was true that she had no idea how to even begin to have an orgasm; she figured that was something she'd figure out one day in the far future, probably when she was married.

"Just relax, okay?" Rangiku said comfortingly, still moving her fingers in a way that made Orihime's hips move on their own, "You can't do it if you're scared or tense. And anyway, it's better to learn how to do it like this now, so it'll be more fun when you and Ichigo finally do it."

Orihime wanted to be deeply mortified. She really did. But the combination of the hot water, the motion of Rangiku's fingers, and the pressure she was now putting on her nipple made it hard for Orihime to think. Even worse, the image of Ichigo reclining in the bath flitted back into her mind, but stronger this time. Guiltily, she allowed herself to imagine it was he who was touching her now, pulling her back into his solid chest and cradling her wet, naked body against his. Just as she was imagining what his fingers must feel like, Rangiku spoke again.

"Haaaah?" Rangiku said slowly, her voice dripping with barely subdued mirth, "Amazing! You relaxed right away! Here, I'll show you something special!" Not taking the pressure off Orihime's clit, Rangiku slid her longer middle finger between the slick folds of the younger girl's skin, causing her to gasp in mild surprise.

It wasn't so much the feeling of the other woman's finger intruding into her most private area that got to Orihime as it was what she did with it a second later. Curling that finger around, Rangiku pressed gently into the moist roof of Orihime's passage. That spot was particularly sensitive; Orihime couldn't help but respond by pressing closer to the demon's hand. As Rangiku stroked her again, a tiny noise escaped her lips, somewhere between a moan and a pant. Rangiku only seemed to take that as encouragement.

"It feels really good, ne?" she asked, pressing her finger a bit more firmly into the flesh, "This is your G-spot. If you feel some pressure down there, just relax into it, okay? Once you let it go, it'll make you feel even better!"

Orihime nodded, closing her eyes tightly and concentrating. She really did feel pressure down where Rangiku was stroking, but how would she know how to let it go? Or when? She concentrated as hard as she could, and before she knew it, she was even holding her breath and clenching her fists.

"Oiii," Rangiku said, giving her clit a tiny pinch, "You're not relaxing! You're straining! Just let me do the work, okay? The rest will come on its own." The pinch caused Orihime to start a bit; she definitely hadn't been expecting that. By the same token, though, she couldn't say that it had hurt, either; in fact, it sent a pleasurable little jolt up into her stomach, causing her to clinch just a bit. But it definitely did what Rangiku had intended for it to do; she slumped against the older woman, her body less tense and more defenseless.

"S-Sorry, Rangiku-san," Orihime said with just a tinge of embarrassment, "I was trying really hard." The older woman smiled as she continued her ministrations. As she relaxed into them, Orihime did find that she enjoyed them just a bit more.

"Don't apologize," Rangiku cooed, "Just relax and let it happen, okay?"

Orihime nodded and leaned back into Rangiku's masterful fingers. Her breathing became deeper and heavier as she felt herself getting drawn more into the experience; she was starting to feel the sensations from Rangiku's fingers better, moving her hips in time with her strokes as she did. There was a warmth spreading down between her legs, and up into her stomach. It allowed her to feel every movement Rangiku made better, the sensations lighting up her nerve endings like a candle. Her breath even began to come out in sharper puffs, to the point that she was making small, sharp gasping noises.

"You sound just like a little bird," the blonde breathed into her ear, causing a tingle to race up Orihime's spine, "I want to just eat you all up!"

Something thrilled in her at that statement. Maybe it was the tone of Rangiku's voice or a tiny bit of pride at being thought desirable. Or maybe it was the hint of danger there; as a Succubus, Rangiku certainly possessed the strength to do whatever she wanted to Orihime and make that statement a reality. Either way, she felt her head grow fuzzy again as her body grew warm from the inside out.

It started as that warmth, coming from her belly and spreading outwards. As it traveled with her heartbeat through her body, Orihime felt her muscles constrict around Rangiku's finger, a small gush of liquid escaping around it into the surrounding water. The pleasure that followed was intoxicating, making her feel as though her whole body were expanding to melt into the water itself. When her daze lifted and she looked up to Rangiku again, she could see the older woman smiling warmly at her.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" she chided with a smile, "Did you enjoy it?" Orihime set her mouth and nodded firmly.

"U-Uhn! V-Very much, Rangiku-san!" she said eagerly, the warmth from her body fading back into the warmth from the bathwater.

"_Rangiku-san!_"

Orihime covered her breasts reflexively and jumped away from Rangiku, splashing water over the side of the tub as she did so. As she looked towards the door, where the voice was coming from, she noticed that Rangiku seemed completely unfazed by the interruption.

"Oh, Hinamori!" she said cheerfully, reclining easily against the side of the tub, "Why don't you come join us?" The black-haired demon placed her hands on her hips and gave Rangiku a frustrated look.

"I _thought_ you might be up to something bad," she said, chiding the older woman, "Just what are you doing with that human girl?" The way she said it, Orihime thought she must know very well what they had been doing. In response, her face colored brightly.

"It's skinship, skinship!" Rangiku said, waving a hand dismissively beside her face, her voice losing none of its jovial lilt, "You should try it sometime! Otherwise, you're going to get wrinkles from being so stressed all the time!" The girl Orihime had heard referred to as Hinamori looked taken aback for a second before leaning forward with a light scowl on her pretty face.

"I... I will not! I'm younger than you!" This didn't seem to faze Rangiku in the least.

"Ah-! Maybe you should ask Hitsugaya-taichou if he'll take a bath with you!" she suggested with an easy smile, "It might help him grow a little! Oh! Or maybe you'd rather have Kira take a bath with you instead?" Orihime wasn't sure what part of that statement was most embarrassing, but she noted that Hinamori's face was definitely as red as hers now, possibly even more so.

"Ra-Rangiku-san! Stop being a pervert!" she yelled, pushing the ruffly skirt of her dress down with her hands, "Stop trying to hook me up with one of them!"

Orihime watched the good-natured argument continue, Rangiku purposely riling the other girl up while Hinamori haplessly took her bait. She certainly felt a bit awkward as she sat naked in the tub, waiting on them to finish. After some time, Rangiku waved her hand to draw the argument to a close so she could continue with her bath.

"And anyway," Rangiku finally said dismissively, "Close the door, you're letting the warm air out!"

* * *

Ichigo had stood patiently through the introductions to his new housemates. He and Chad had been introduced to the Master-at-Arms, Hisagi Shuuhei, and the Yeoman, Kira Izuru upstairs in the drawing room.

Hisagi was stern-faced and stoic, speaking no more than what was required of him. With an unruly shock of black hair framing his face, Ichigo had been surprised to find he sported both scars and a tattoo of the number 69 on his face. Part of him wanted to be impressed at the way the man had seemed to elevate the art of being an aloof badass to an art form; the other part just wondered what on earth would've possessed someone to get a tattoo on his face.

The other man, Kira, was a bit more sociable than his sempai, if not a bit more awkward as well. Whereas the other man exuded an air of easy confidence, Kira seemed a bit more self-conscious. Straight blonde hair fell in a point before his left eye, obscuring it entirely few view. Even behind the plank of hair, though, Ichigo could see that the man had a kind, if somewhat apprehensive face.

Both men had accompanied them to the training room below the main house itself, along with Hitsugaya and Rukia.

Unlike the other rooms in the expansive mansion, this one seemed closer to a traditional dojo and closer to what Ichigo had been expecting when he arrived. Racks of shinai and bokken, as well as free weights, heavy bags, gloves, and face masks lined the mirrored walls in orderly rows. The floors were heavily polished hard wood; he was suddenly grateful for the pair of house shoes he'd been given upon entering the house. There was no telling what the angry little white-haired kid beside him would've done had he scuffed that perfectly polished floor with the sneakers he wore to and from school.

Somewhere along the way, Ichigo had noticed they'd lost the girl who had let them into the house, Momo. He thought he heard her murmur an apology before vanishing to go look for the blonde that had absconded away with Orihime. Something about that made him uneasy, though. Maybe it was that he was worried that something bad could happen to her without his knowledge. Or maybe it was that he was anxious to put their day of tension behind him. Either way, the muffled sounds of familiar female laughter floating through the walls simultaneously soothed his nerves and pricked him with just a bit of jealousy.

As he'd been absorbed by his thoughts, Ichigo hadn't noticed that Hitsugaya had walked over to a set of traditional sliding doors on the far end of the training room until he heard him knock on them. His eyes snapped up to the shorter boy, watching in confusion as he pulled the door half-open with a snap. Ichigo briefly thought his eyes were deceiving him as he saw the utter darkness swirling beyond the door. It wasn't a normal closet, that was for certain.

"Two of you, come out now," the white-haired boy commanded in a firm tone. As if on cue, two small creatures emerged from the darkness of the artificial closet, bouncing into the dojo one after the other.

The first one to enter the room looked for all the world like a miniature lion. Ichigo regarded him with a curious scowl, one eyebrow cocked into his spiky orange bangs. The small creature peered back at him defiantly, almost as if he was daring Ichigo to say something about his appearance. Before he could, however, the lion spoke.

"OI!" it blurted out roughly, causing Ichigo's eyes to widen in surprise, "Is this some kind of joke? I wait for years to get a master, and this is what they gave me?" Somehow, he just knew this insult was directed at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Ichigo shot back, causing Rukia to roll her eyes at his outburst. The lion bounced over to stand before Ichigo, looking balefully up at him with his paws on his hips.

"What do you think it means?" the lion continued, "It means I've never seen such a puny, uncool excuse for a demon before! How am I supposed to have any fun in the human world with a stiff like you for my boss?" Before Ichigo could stomp the obnoxious lion within an inch of his life, however, he noticed the other creature that had emerged from the sliding door behind him.

It somewhat resembled a turtle, but all its features were more elongated, thinner. Ichigo could've sworn it was even wearing a necktie of some sort. And unlike its feline counterpart, this tiny creature didn't argue or fuss; in fact, Ichigo had yet to hear it even make so much as a peep. It strode right towards Chad without pause for anything else that may have been in its path.

"These are your new familiars," Hitsugaya said matter-of-factly before closing the sliding door again, "All the new recruits get one when they enter their house. Familiars, introduce yourselves."

"Nova," the turtle said simply, giving Chad a small bow. Chad responded in kind, a small dusting of pink scattered across his nose. Ichigo realized he probably thought the small creature was cute.

"Sado Yasutora," the deep voiced giant replied, bending over to help the little turtle up into his hands. Ichigo's attention was torn away from the two kindred spirits by a loud, grating noise from his feet.

"Oi! Oi oi oi!" the lion was bellowing, drawing Ichigo's attention back to him, "I'm Kon! But that's Kon-sama to you!" Ichigo's eye twitched; first Rukia, now this guy. These demons were determined to surround him with the most annoying people imaginable, weren't they?

"That's a stupid name," he replied evenly, scoffing at the familiar.

"I'll have you know, it stands for King of New York!" Kon said with a huff, "My second cousin, twice-removed, is related to the King of America!" That settled it; this was definitely a conspiracy against Ichigo's sanity. As he buried his face in his hand, the small lion turned his attention to Rukia.

"Nee-san!" he said, looking up at her with teary eyes, "Where have you been all my life? Why couldn't you have been my master instead?" Before Ichigo could even say anything, though, Rukia's small foot came crashing down into the lion's head.

"I pity you, Ichigo," she said evenly, twisting her ankle a little to rub the creature's face into the hardwood floor, "I think you got a defective one." Ichigo couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction as the small feline squeaked underneath Rukia's heel.

Suddenly, the door of the training room burst open and three pairs of stockinged feet tromped into the room.

"Captain~!" Rangiku's sing-song voice carried through the room and echoed off the mirrored walls. Ichigo thought he might have imagined it, but Hisagi's ears seemed to get a bit pinker as the blonde walked in.

"Just in time, Matsumoto," Hitsugaya said, turning to his lieutenant, "We were just wrapping u-- _Matsumoto_, what are you _wearing_?!" Ichigo's eyes flickered from Hisagi's pink ears to the blonde behind them. When he saw it, his jaw dropped.

The busty blonde was barely wedged into a fluffy pink bathrobe that just dusted the tops of her thighs. The top was also loosely fastened, showing off her impressive cleavage. She also had a matching pair of fluffy pink slippers. Ichigo noticed that Hisagi was suddenly holding his nose as he turned the other way. For his part, Ichigo wanted to run and hide; what the hell was _with_ these demons?

As his eyes left Matsumoto's barely-dressed frame, though, he noticed that Orihime and Momo were with her. Orihime was smiling serenely, dressed in her school uniform with a pair of fuzzy slippers on, her hair pinned neatly in place as usual. There was something different about her from when he last saw her; she no longer looked sad and distracted, but instead looked healthy and happy. In fact, the change was so pronounced that he couldn't help but nearly stare openly. Part of him was relieved that she looked so much more relaxed than the last time he saw her, but part of him - a rather large part, were he to be honest with himself - was curious how that change had happened.

"Hitsugaya-kun," Momo said, hands on hips with a frustrated expression on her face, "You won't believe what I ca--" Matsumoto's hand silence her before she could say any more, though.

"Now, now, Hi-na-mo-ri~" Matsumoto chirped, pulling the smaller girl back into her bosom, "Not in front of the guests!" Before the angry black-haired girl could protest, however, something small and furry launched itself at them.

"Nee-san!" Kon cried in delight, flying through the air towards Matsumoto's bathrobe-clad chest, "Nee-san, surely you can use another fami--" Matsumoto smiled as she batted Kon back towards Ichigo, where he collided with his master's solid chest.

"Oh, Ichigo!" Matsumoto chimed, "You got your familiar! That makes you one of us now, ne? Congratulations!" Ichigo held the unruly lion by his scruff, a look of distaste on his face.

"Yeah, congratulations," he murmured, "Of course I'd get stuck with the deviant familiar." But as he lowered the irritating familiar, he noticed Orihime smiling at him.

"I think he's cute," she said, smiling serenely. Ichigo blinked once in surprise before the lion started struggling in his grip.

"Nee-san, you're so kind," Kon said desperately, trying to jump to Orihime next, "I could be your familiar instead!" Ichigo visibly bristled, his teeth clinching together as he shook the familiar by his scruff.

"You're _my_ familiar, so suck it up and get over it," Ichigo ground out, opening the flap of the book bag that was slung over his shoulder and shoving Kon roughly into it. He latched the flap closed over Kon's protests before turning his scowl back to Orihime's amused face.

"Ignore him, he's a jerk," Ichigo mumbled, looking off to the floor in a hurry.

"Well, if there's nothing else you want tonight," Hitsugaya said, drawing their attention back to him, "You're free to go on your way."

* * *

"That was a lot of fun!" Orihime chimed as Ichigo trudged down the chipped sidewalk behind her, "Rangiku-san is really nice, too..."

The difference from the time Orihime showed up at the mansion to the time they left was like night and day. Ichigo couldn't help but feel a little jealous as he walked her home; what did Matsumoto have that he didn't? He knew he should just be thankful that Orihime wasn't avoiding him anymore, that she was smiling again, but he couldn't help still feeling shut out.

Without thinking, he came to a stop beneath a streetlight, watching Orihime's back as she swayed down the sidewalk away from him a few steps before she stopped walking as well. She turned slowly, her auburn hair falling over her shoulder and down her back as she looked back at him.

"Kurosaki-kun?" she asked softly, turning back to move closer to him, "What's wrong?" Ichigo gave her a weak smile, hoping his expression wasn't worrying her.

"It's... It's nothing," he lied, "Hey, when... When we were at school today, you... You weren't angry with me, were you?" Well, he figured that was the best way to put it; accusing her of avoiding him probably wouldn't go over well. Instead, Orihime's face softened into a sad smile.

"No," she said gently, stepping beneath the streetlight with him, "It wasn't your fault. It's just..." She froze, mouth half-open for a second before her eyes flitted down to look at her hands. She fidgeted a bit as Ichigo waited on her to continue.

"It's just that Abaddon-sama told me that I shouldn't get involved with you and Sado-kun," she continued softly, not making eye contact, "So... So I thought I should try to stay away." Then her amber eyes flickered back to his, a warm expression lighting them. "But Rangiku-san said I was being silly, and that it's okay if you have friends that... aren't demons."

Ichigo ran his hand through his hair, sighing at Orihime's confession. So that nosy old man had said something to her when he pulled her aside. He felt a flash of protectiveness; who was he to tell Orihime who she could and couldn't be friends with? That was her decision, as well as his.

"Inoue," Ichigo finally said with a sigh, "We're not going to leave you behind, alright? Me and Chad will still watch out for you, even if... even if we're not like you anymore." Orihime looked as though she might cry. She was hiding it well, though, Ichigo thought, as she gave him a strained smile.

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun," she said quietly, smiling up at him even as little tears were pooling in the corners of her eyes, "You don't... You don't have to put yourself out on my account, though. I-I know I'm kind of clumsy and--" Ichigo rolled his eyes as he started walking again.

"Dummy," he said softly, addressing her without turning around, "Don't argue with me. We're going to watch out for you whether you want it or not. I'm not going to let anyone else hurt you ever again. Got it?"

Even though he couldn't see it, he could tell that Orihime was smiling even as she wiped her cheeks.

"O-Okay!"

Ichigo smiled at the sound of her voice, walking slowly to give her short legs the opportunity to catch up to his long ones.

"Now hurry up," he said, avoiding her eyes as she ran to his side, "Those shows you like are on, so we have to get you home."


	10. Extra! Kon Gaiden

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything: Extra! Kon Gaiden

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST... Kon.

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the well-wishes, everyone! The car situation has been smoothed out and I'm the proud new owner of a Mini Cooper! I've been spending so much time on it that I've hardly been able to write except in small bursts! But here this is! A bonus chapter for getting 50 subscribers! I think after another three chapters or so, we'll have covered enough ground to look for another bonus chapter, so look forward to that, too!

* * *

"And don't make a mess while I'm gone..."

The small lion flipped the pages of his girly magazine. He knew his master had no idea where he'd gotten it, and it bugged him that he'd brought it into his room - _"What if my dad finds this?! He'll never let me live it down!"_ - but somehow that just made the nearly-naked girls all that much sweeter.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Don't _'yeah, yeah'_ me! And _stay quiet_ while I'm at school! If my dad or sisters catch you, we're screwed!"

Well, no, not exactly. But didn't Kon wish! He briefly thought of all the hotties Ichigo surrounded himself with - the two black-haired girls with the flat chests, the hot blonde with the J cups, and that ditzy redhead with the killer rack. If he were Ichigo, he'd be hitting it in three different directions every day! And a fourth on Sundays!

"Yeah, yeah."

If he were Ichigo...

"Just... Don't move until I come back. Alright?"

"Whatever you say, boss."

Kon flipped another page. The boring redhead he called his master stomped out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the pictures on the wall. Kon looked up a few moments later, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

If he were Ichigo...

* * *

Had Ichigo had any other familiar, they might have told him a few things about familiars. First and foremost being that most of them had humanoid forms. Some of them could even alter theirs at will; Kon was one of these familiars. He could take on the shape of any human or demon that he'd laid eyes on.

So it was no surprise that Kon had decided to take on Ichigo's form, really. He had lots of hot friends! _One_ of them had to want to get freaky with him, right? He might've been the most boring demon Kon had ever met, and always had an ugly look on his face, but from all indications, that somehow attracted chicks. And if it attracted chicks, Kon wouldn't question it.

"Yosh!" Kon said to himself, preening at the mirror on Ichigo's wall, "This is my best idea ever! While the loser's away, the cat will play!" He was a spitting replica of the red-haired boy, right down to the messy hair and school uniform. Best of all, Ichigo had left almost half an hour ago - sure, he might be late to school, but that gave him a better chance of accidentally running into a cute girl that was _also_ late!

He gave himself one more good look over before heading out Ichigo's door and down the stairs. He'd have to avoid his family, but that would be a piece of cake, wouldn't it? Ichigo had said they were all human - Kon figured his dead mother was probably the demon out of the bunch - so there was no worry they'd detect him, right?

"BANZAI!"

Kon was disabused of that notion rather violently as both of Isshin's feet met his face, sending him rolling first up, then down the stairs. He landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Kon thanked his lucky stars he was a familiar; if he had been a normal human, or even a demon, he might've broken something important! As it was, he sprung readily to his feet, fist raised for a confrontation.

"OI!" he yelled, not even bothering to conceal his temper, "What the hell was that for?! I was on the stairs! What would you have done if that had really hurt me?!" Isshin scratched his cheek and looked unconcerned.

"Well, I _am_ a doctor," he said with a shrug, coming down the stairs towards his 'son', "I think the more important question, though, is why you're not on your way to school! You know the penalty for playing hooky, young man!" Kon inwardly cringed as Isshin cracked his knuckles. This wasn't going as planned _at all_.

"I wasn't playing hooky!" he quickly amended, hiding behind his hands, "I was... I had a stomachache!" Isshin stopped moving forwards and looked as though he was thinking for a moment. Then, as if he'd been hit with a brilliant idea, his face lightened and he began moving forward again.

"Oh, I get it," he said, moving past Kon and grabbing him by his shirt to drag him towards one of the treatment rooms, "You're constipated! Don't worry, son! I've got just the thing for you!"

* * *

"That stupid old man..."

Kon clutched miserably at his stomach as he trudged down the sidewalk to school. Luckily he was running behind the people that normally saw Ichigo, because no one bothered talking to him or even acknowledging his presence. Good thing, too; he felt as though he'd eaten a live octopus. The castor oil Isshin had given him tasted horrible and felt even worse going down. And once it reached his stomach, it had only gotten worse from there.

The only up side to this was that he was almost to school. He hadn't missed the bell yet, as there were still tons of cute girls milling about the schoolyard. The sight of them perked him up at once; his stomach could wait - right now, there were girls that needed his attention!

As he approached them, though, Kon began to notice something weird. Whichever direction he stepped in, the girls would step aside as though they'd been repelled by a magnet. He even tried walking towards two or three different groups! They all did the same thing - for every step he took forward, they'd take two back!

_'Don't tell me,'_ Kon thought, irritated, _'I bet all these girls like Ichigo as much as I do!'_ Damn it all, that stupid boss of his! Of course he'd waste whatever looks nature had given him and scare all the girls away from him! How annoying!

"Ichigo, are you not going in?"

Kon turned around and came face-to-face with the petite black-haired goddess he'd met at Wrath House just the day before. And she was talking to him! What luck!

"R-Rukia!" He was fairly sure that was her name, anyway. Time to lay it on thick. "Rukia, I missed you! Give me a hug!"

Before he could wrap his arms around the startled girl in front of him, however, a large shadow fell over him. Kon blinked and looked up. And when he did, his stomach flipped at what he saw.

It was the scariest damn demon he'd ever seen in his life. Even though he had an inhibitor on, Kon could tell that's what it was. He had hair and eyes the color of blood, and those eyes were glowing like embers. The jagged black tattoos covering his eyebrows and upper arms only made Kon want to run that much more.

"Why don't you get a hug from me?" Renji growled, cracking his knuckles. Kon froze in horror, and a second later Renji's fist hit his jaw like a ton of bricks. He was driven hard into the pavement of the schoolyard and left there to twitch as Renji took Rukia's hand and stomped off. As they left, Kon was vaguely aware of the stares he was getting from everyone in the courtyard.

"I thought you hurt your hands from all those toilets Nii-sama made you scrub?" Kon heard her ask earnestly as Renji led her off to class.

"That was just my fingers and... Dammit, Rukia! I don't want to talk about that!"

"You are touching me with them!"

Kon vaguely felt a pool of blood form beneath his nose. He barely cared as he heard the bell chime and Renji stalked off to class with Rukia in tow.

* * *

"Stupid baboon! Just who does he think he is?!"

Kon gingerly twisted another piece of bathroom tissue and jammed it into his bleeding nose. As soon as he peeled himself off the courtyard pavement, he'd run towards the first bathroom he could find in the building. And naturally, it had some weird character he couldn't read on the door, which just figured with his luck.

So there he sat, angrily nursing a bleeding nose and a bubbling stomach inside one of the stalls, thankful for the privacy. Once his stupid nose stopped bleeding, he'd go out and find a girl that wouldn't run away and didn't have some crazed ape ready to punch him out for looking at her sideways.

As he propped his chin on his fists and his elbows dug into his knees, Kon heard the bathroom door open and a pair of footsteps pitter-patter softly into the room. And as he heard a pair of female voices, Kon began to think his luck had really changed.

"Come on, Michiru-chan~!" a sing-song voice said, "It'll be fun!"

"Chi-Chizuru-chan! It's the beginning of the school day! Can't it wait?"

"You know you're so cute that I can't wait! Besides, it's more fun if we might get caught!"

Kon's ears were wide open now, his eye pressed to the crack in the stall door. Sadly, all he could see was a pair of school skirts and some legs. He didn't need to see to know what was going on, though.

"I-I guess... But we should hurry, or Ochi-sensei might come looking for us!"

"Don't worry - I'm Karakura High's Number One Speed Queen!"

Kon couldn't help but blush. He'd stumbled onto heaven in a school bathroom. All those kinky scenes from the magazines he'd read came rushing back to him in a gush. He was so engrossed in imagining what might be happening on the other side of the bathroom stall that he didn't notice when it started to swing open. In fact, he didn't notice until it swung away from his face and he was staring right at a bespectacled redhead putting mascara on a shorter, plumper girl. They both stared openly at him for a beat before...

"_AHHHHHHHHH!_ K-K-Kurosaki Ichigo!"

"Don't worry, Michiru-chan. I know how to handle perverts."

The redhead with the glasses stepped towards him, her eyes glowing with an inhuman light. Her knuckles cracked with evil intent.

"First Hime-chan, now this?" she said, towering over Kon in a way that made the blood rush from his face, "Hime-chan might be too good-natured to see you for what you really are, Kurosaki Ichigo, but I'm not as nice as she is! I won't allow you to pluck the delicate blooms of this school any longer! This bathroom is _girls only!_"

Those two words had never sounded more terrifying to Kon.

* * *

"Goddamn, what is _wrong_ with this school?! These humans are more violent than demons!"

Kon made his way down the school hallway, clutching his nose and trying his damnedest to avoid any more of Ichigo's crazy classmates. At this rate, he just wanted to get off the school grounds before another of them beat the hell out of him. He could go somewhere fun until school let out and then try to see if he couldn't score one of his hotter classmates.

But first he had to get out of the hallway. It was already hard enough, considering he had to lean on the walls for support until those bones in his ankle snapped back into place. He silently prayed he wouldn't run into any more crazy students, or worse - a teacher.

Releasing his nose and sniffing gingerly, he found that it was no longer bleeding. Good, that was one less thing to worry about. And as soon as that ankle popped back into alignment, he'd be as good as new!

Admittedly, Kon was a bit distracted, because he suddenly found his face smacking up against something soft and yielding. He looked down, but hardly believed what he saw; so just to test and see if his luck was really about to turn around, he brought his hands up and gave them a squeeze. Yep, sure enough, there was a magnificent pair of breasts underneath a taut school shirt. Kon grinned happily as he gave them another squeeze for good measure.

"Wow, nice and firm," he mumbled, his cheeks lighting up. Surely the demon king had blessed him with this amazing pair of breasts!

"Thank you, Kurosaki-san," a melodious monotone droned at him from above, "But I was under the impression that you would have preferred Inoue-san's breasts." Kon looked up to see the passive face of a green-eyed beauty, her long, black hair braided down her back. She cocked her head to give him a quizzical look.

"That's funny, Nemu-san," a masculine voice said from behind Kon, accompanied by the small 'clink' of a pair of glasses, "I was under that exact same impression." Something about the tone of the black-haired boy's voice suddenly made Kon feel very, very cold.

* * *

"Stupid... crazy... demented... insane..."

Kon mumbled to himself as he limped down the sidewalk, leaning heavily on a chest-high wall for support. He'd finally escaped the madhouse Ichigo called his school, only to wander the streets aimlessly. He didn't dare go back to Ichigo's house until school let out - there was no telling what his psychotic father would do if he thought he was cutting classes - and he didn't know any good places to hang out in this town yet.

_'That loser probably doesn't even go anywhere after school,'_ he thought ruefully, cursing his luck once again. He didn't expect Ichigo to take him anywhere with him when he got out of school. The years stretched dully in front of his face, a boring life cooped up in some dull clod's house with just a sock drawer for company...

"Augh! I can't think about that! It's too depressing! I have to..."

Kon trailed off as he looked up and noticed the gate in front of which he'd wandered. The cast iron grating, the starkly manicured lawn... Well, at least they'd welcome him at Wrath House, right?

* * *

"Kira, Kira! Have a drink with me!"

"Rangiku-san, it's only half past noon..."

"That's even more reason - we're getting started late!"

Kira sighed, placing the paperwork he'd just completed into the outbox on his desk. As Lieutenant of Wrath House, Rangiku _should have_ had just as much paperwork as him, if not more. But somehow hers always got lost, stained, spindled, mutilated, or shoved into couch cushions. Kira was almost always the one to fix the missing paperwork, but it was usually quite a task. Today was no exception.

"Maybe later," he said wearily, "I'm very busy right now, especially with filing the forms for the two new recruits. I have to send forms to the Immigration Board for the Mexican one, too, since they didn't realize he was half-demon, so..." Kira could tell that Rangiku's attention was wandering as he spoke, so he had to act quickly.

"Why don't you ask Hisagi-san if he's not too busy?" Rangiku's face lit up like a firecracker.

"Ah! That's a great idea, Kira!" she said with a wide, disarming grin. She pushed herself off Kira's office chair and traipsed towards the door of his office, cupping a hand over her mouth as she went. Sometimes Kira really could see what other guys saw in Rangiku; even though she was irresponsible and flaky, she really did have a sweet, open disposition most of the time.

"Shuuhei! Shuuhei! Hey, Shuuhei, let's go out for drinks!"

And then she would open her mouth and Kira would remember why he personally could never fall for her.

Instead of leaving his office, though, she stopped half-way to the doorway and looked at something just beyond. Curious, Kira craned his neck to look around her willowy frame. Coming towards Rangiku through the door was that new recruit, Kurosaki Ichigo.

No, not Ichigo, Kira realized, crooking an eyebrow.

"Nee-san! How I've missed you!"

He seemed to be launching himself right towards Rangiku's ample cleavage, her long black dress leaving it on full display. Faster than Kira could see, Rangiku walloped the boy on the head, sending him sprawling to the floor. She placed a foot on his back and leaned into it, giving him a quizzical look.

"I thought I told you to bring Orihime-chan with you when you came back," the leggy blonde said, stepping squarely into the middle of his back with both feet. The boy groaned and Kira almost thought he heard a sob.

"She's in class!" he explained quickly, looking up at Rangiku with watery eyes, "I had to come here because I kept getting beaten! Have some pity, Nee-san!" Rangiku smushed his head against the floor with her foot.

"I don't have any pity for weak little boys that let their human schoolmates bully them," she said, placing her hands on her hips as she bent over to look at him, "And for smelly boys who don't bring me their cute, non-smelly girlfriends to talk to when they come over."

As she was lecturing him, a scarred, tattooed figure filled the doorway, a curious look on his face. Kira could swear he heard a muffled sob as Rangiku looked over to the doorway to greet their sempai.

"Shuuhei!" she said cheerily, hopping off the broken boy beneath her and grabbing the confused, taller man by his bare arm, "Let's go!" Kira noted the light blush spreading across his friend's face as Rangiku began to lead him away.

"Go where, exactly?" he asked, not exactly skeptically. This didn't keep Rangiku from pulling him out of the room.

"Out!" she chirped happily, "We're going to have a long lunch! A long, liquid lunch! Your treat!" Kira sighed as he watched his friend's face light up. Well, he did suppose that the Master-At-Arms had far less paperwork than a Yeoman. Presently, the two left him alone with the boy who was still twitching in the floor.

"Does your master know you're here?" he asked, looking over the edge of his desk at the redhead currently sprawled across his office carpet.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled almost unintelligibly, apparently unable to pick his head up off the floor.

"You do realize that most of us can sense that you're not Kurosaki-san, right?" Kira asked, casting him a dubious look. All this elicited was another groan.

* * *

Once again, Kon found himself walking the streets aimlessly. He was headed vaguely in the direction of Ichigo's house now, most of his wounds, scrapes, and bruises healed. That couldn't help his countenance, though; he felt thoroughly beaten, trounced by the injustices of the world.

He had taken on a decent-looking form. His voice sounded nice enough. He had smiled! He even smelled good! So then why had every girl he'd laid eyes on today either run away from him or beaten him within an inch of his life? What rotten luck!

Kon was so busy cursing his crappy luck that he paid no mind to where he was kicking rocks as he scuffed his feet along the sidewalk. In fact, he was kicking them solely to relieve his frustration. He got some good momentum with one rock in particular, which sailed straight over the sidewalk before bouncing off something black, soft, and yielding.

"Do you mind?" a deep voice floated up from the ground to Kon's ears.

The familiar looked down to see a sleek black cat licking one graceful paw and looking up at him as though it was regarding a pile of refuse. Kon's eyes narrowed as he looked over what was clearly another familiar.

"Beat it, fleabag," he grumbled, rearing back to launch a kick towards the cat, "I'm not interested in shrimpy familiars like you." The cat seemed to grin.

"Shrimpy?" it asked, the corner of its yellow eyes twitching, "And I'll have you know, I take good care not to catch fleas." Kon adopted a look quite similar to his own master.

"Well, take your fleas someplace else anyway!" he yelled, no longer caring if anyone saw or heard him arguing with what appeared to be a normal feline, "You're interrupting my walk home, asshole!" And with that, he sprang forward with his leg and launched an impressive kick at the offending cat.

Except that when his kick landed, the cat had vanished in a large puff of smoke. Instead of connecting with a small black cat, his leg was now being held at the ankle by a smirking black-haired woman with dark skin, long hair, and yellow eyes. Horror fought with curiosity as Kon noticed that this familiar was also completely naked. Under any other circumstances, he might consider this his lucky day. But he knew that wasn't going to be the case.

"Asshole, huh?" she said, her voice now perfectly feminine, "That's no way to talk to a lady." The dark-skinned familiar gave Kon's leg a sharp twist, causing pain to shoot straight up his leg and into his spine. There was a sickening snapping sound to accompany it, to make matters even worse.

"Maybe I should teach you some manners, young man," she continued with a toothy, sinister grin.

* * *

It was official. This was the worst day of Kon's life.

Granted, it was only his first full day outside of the infernal realms and his first full day as Kurosaki Ichigo's familiar. But already he wanted to throw in the towel. This human world was simply too harsh and unforgiving for a gentle soul such as he. Maybe he could ask the white-haired kid for a reassignment? Maybe he could beg and they'd take him back through the portal. He'd wait a little longer if it meant the chance to live in a place that wasn't hell on earth.

With these morose thoughts in mind, Kon trudged down the street towards his current home. His battered body was already well on its way to healing, but that meant nothing against his bruised and battered spirit. He was so disillusioned with women and the human world in general that he thought he might never recover.

So it really was a stroke of luck that he collided with what - with who - he did.

By that point, he'd even lost the will to be angry. Instead, Kon bounced backwards and landed flat on his back on the sidewalk. He no longer cared. If he just lay there, whoever it was couldn't accuse him of being a pervert, right? Maybe if he pretended to be dead, they'd leave him alone?

"Kurosaki-kun?"

Kon looked up to see a girl - no, a _goddess_ - staring down at him. Her long auburn hair was framed with a halo of golden afternoon light, casting shadows over her sweet face. And those glorious breasts were dangling just in front of him, like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. And he would have reached up and done just that, except that she spoke again.

"No, you're not him," Orihime said, blinking as she examined him closely, "You're... Kon-kun?" He looked over to see her sitting back on her knees, staring at him quizzically.

"Yes, I--" Kon said with a smile before realizing he really shouldn't be telling her he was an impostor. He couldn't help it, though; just her calling him by his name was enough to make him deliriously happy. Not only was a beautiful girl talking to him and smiling at him, she also _wasn't trying to beat the tar out of him_. That last part was very important in any relationship, Kon reasoned.

Before he could say anything else, though, a dome of golden light surrounded him. Orihime looked started for a moment, her hairpins twinkling with the new light. She then started looking left and right to see if anyone else was watching.

"Shh," she said seriously, bringing a finger to her lips, "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

Kon could only watch in stunned silence. As he lay beneath the light, his aches and pains vanished, the visible wounds vanishing along with them. And after a few minutes, he felt good as new. As he lifted a hand to his face and made and unmade a fist, the light vanished, zipping back to Orihime's hairpins.

"How did you do that?" he asked, stunned. This was definitely some new type of demon magic.

Orihime rubbed the back of her head, laughing nervously as she shrugged. Oh well, it wasn't as if it really mattered to him anyway. He was way more concerned with the rest of her body than with her hairpins, anyway.

"Umm, I don't really know," she said simply, smiling sheepishly, "But please don't let on like you know. Kurosaki-kun will worry if he knows that you know, too."

It was then that the wheels in Kon's mind started turning. Orihime definitely wasn't human; what she was wearing had to be a special kind of limiter like the demons he'd seen so far had. What confounded him was that she felt completely human; not like a demon with a limiter on, but like a _human_. No, not even that. In all honesty, he realized she felt like something just slightly different; like a human, but _better_.

Beyond that, Kon felt a pang of jealousy. This girl had taken _his_ boss, that good-for-nothing, weak, scowling loser, into her confidence. It was painfully obvious just by looking at him that Ichigo was smitten with this girl, but it was galling to find out that she was just as crazy about him.

But then Kon realized that she'd also let him see her secret, too. So it wasn't just Ichigo's and her secret anymore - he was in on it, too! A surge of satisfaction swelled within his breast as a grin split his face. Take that, Ichigo!

"Don't worry, milady," he said, putting on his best serious face as he looked up at her from the ground, "Your secret is safe with me!" Orihime giggled in a way that made Kon want to melt into a tiny little puddle.

"Alright, here," she said, extending her hand to help him up, "I'll walk back to Kurosaki-kun's place with you." As Kon rose from the ground, he didn't consider that it might not be the brightest idea to walk back to Ichigo's place hand-in-hand with Orihime. In fact, he was too busy being elated at his change in luck to think about much outside of the warmth of Orihime's hand and the way her hair smelled like grapefruit and soap.

So really, it should've come as no surprise to anyone, Kon least of all, that the first thing he'd see upon approaching the front glass door of the Kurosaki household would be Ichigo's furious face staring at him from the other side of the glass. Ichigo's furious... bruised... bloodied face.

Before Kon could run, speak, or even attempt to hide, Ichigo was through the door and had him by the collar, shaking him violently over Orihime's protests.

"Do you have _any idea_ what I had to put up with today because of you?!" he ground out between clenched teeth, "Were you _peeping in the girls' bathroom_?! Looking like me?! Are you insane?!" All the while, Orihime was tugging at Ichigo, trying to get him to release Kon - or at least to get him to stop shaking him so hard.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime pleaded, "Please don't hurt him! He was already hurt when I found him!" He turned to look at Orihime, some of his anger draining just from the sound of her voice.

"But he--" Ichigo protested, finding his resolve cracking under Orihime's plaintive stare. "Oh _fine_," he huffed finally, no longer shaking his prisoner, "You. House. Now." With that, he released Kon - probably harder than he absolutely had to - and stalked behind him towards the door. As soon as the familiar was through it and heading towards his bedroom, Ichigo turned back to look at Orihime, who was giving him a concerned look.

"He didn't bother you, did he?" Ichigo asked softly, not meeting her eyes. Orihime blinked once before shaking her head and smiling softly.

"No," she said, matching his tone of voice and giving him a faint smile as well, "Please don't be hard on him, Kurosaki-kun. I think he just wanted to get out." Ichigo suppressed a snort as he scratched the back of his head.

"He could've done it without impersonating me," he grumbled, "Now everyone at school thinks I'm a crazy pervert." Orihime gave him a puzzled look.

"I don't think you're a... you know," she said with a small blush. Ichigo raised an eyebrow as he noticed Orihime studying her hands in great detail. "But... Umm... You're hurt, so..."

"Yeah, Honshou did a number on me," Ichigo grumbled, ruffling his hair with his hand, "And it's not like it'd be fair to fight her back, either." Orihime looked up at him with watery, honey-colored eyes, causing Ichigo to wish he hadn't said anything.

"Please go inside, okay?" she said, "If we stand out here much longer, I might start healing you without meaning to..."

* * *

Kon watched with a sigh as the two teenagers disappeared back into the house. He was sitting in Ichigo's bedroom window, already back in his familiar form. He slid down the sill, flopping down onto the bed.

This was it. As soon as Ichigo got back, he was going to get it. He'd heard of masters who killed their familiars for less than he'd done today. And even if he didn't kill him, he was probably going to beat the stuffing out of him; Ichigo _was_ a Wraith, after all. And if he didn't do that, he might even send him back to the nether realms and just get a new familiar. The perfect end to the perfect day, really.

These depressing thoughts swirled through Kon's head like a thick, dark fog, causing him to sigh until he heard the door downstairs shut and footsteps on the stairs leading up to Ichigo's room. From the sound of the footfalls, he could tell it was him. Well, here it was. This was the end.

A second later, the door swung inward with a sharp bang, revealing a freshly-healed Ichigo, scowl firmly in place. Much to Kon's surprise, though, the redhead ignored him, stomped over to his desk, and flopped into the chair. He didn't even make eye contact. Kon sat up, half in curiosity and half in indignation. He'd just gotten him beaten up by a girl at school, wasn't he even going to say anything?

"Oi!" Kon exclaimed, waving one paw, "Don't just ignore me! Aren't you going to punish me? Hit me? Yell at me? _Anything?_" Ichigo turned back in his chair, draping one arm over the back, to look at Kon with a bored, irritated expression.

"Why, do you _want_ me to?" he snorted, turning back to his desk to start his schoolwork, "Guess that explains what you were doing today." Kon jumped up to his hind legs, aggravated.

"Not by _you_," Kon replied, his tone growing heated, "But if you're gonna do it, get it over with! I'm not afraid of you!" Ichigo didn't even turn to look at him as he rolled his eyes.

"I promised Inoue I wouldn't hurt you," he grumbled as he opened one of his schoolbooks, "So just sit there and shut up while I do my homework."

Kon fell silent, stunned, and simply plopped down onto his bottom. The bedspread beneath him rustled as he sat quietly, staring at his new master. He wasn't going to hurt him? Kon felt something stir within him; something close to grudging respect. Goodness knew his new master wasn't that smart or strong or good-looking. But there was something about him that Kon knew was different.

Maybe working for Kurosaki Ichigo wouldn't be so bad after all.


	11. Chapter 10: The Letter

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 10 - The Letter

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note: ** I apologize again for the delay in updating! Things have been hectic the past month, and they don't look to be slowing down anytime over the next month either. I'd also like to work on a shorter story, so that might come before the next chapter. Either way, here's hoping there's not too much of a delay between now and then!

* * *

Things continued in a steady pace for weeks.

On the weekdays, Ichigo and Chad would spend their afternoons at Wrath House, sparring with Rukia, Hisagi and sometimes Renji. Kon would often tag along, just to get out of the house, as would Nova (although he was substantially quieter than the lion familiar). And finally, Orihime would often accompany Chad and Ichigo, partially so she wouldn't have to walk home alone, but also because Rangiku had insisted that she be brought over to keep her company.

In fact, the one time Ichigo had dared show up without asking Orihime if she'd wanted to come over first, Rangiku had set him to scrubbing the huge basement bathrooms for the entire evening. If Wrath House taught him nothing else, Ichigo had reasoned, it would teach him how to have a very colorful vocabulary. Either way, that wasn't exactly an experience he wanted to repeat, so Orihime was asked over quite frequently.

The weekends, however, were another matter entirely. Knowing now that Kon had the ability to impersonate him, Ichigo grudgingly left him to take his place at home, sometimes for the entire weekend at a stretch. Sometimes he'd come home to find the familiar looking the worse for wear - goodness only knew what he'd gotten up to, although Ichigo suspected everything he tried blew up in his face - but for the most part it worked out.

The weekends were a time for Ichigo to get extra training with Urahara on his own. As close as he and Chad were and as much as Rukia was supposed to be training him, he wasn't sure if he should tell them about the association at all. Urahara himself had insinuated that he wasn't exactly someone that Ichigo should announce his association with; as shady as the shopkeeper seemed to be, there was no real telling what kind of laws he was breaking.

More often than not, Urahara would simply admit Ichigo into his training room and then have one of his assistants spar with him until he grew too tired to hold his sword. Even the unassuming little pigtailed girl, Ururu, was a ridiculous challenge for Ichigo; for something so skinny and soft-spoken, she sure hit like a ton of bricks. Some days, if he was particularly bored or otherwise not occupied, Urahara himself would give chase, always putting Ichigo on the offensive and eventually besting him.

And then some days, Ichigo would arrive ready to train and be sent to organize stock in the back store room or file paperwork for the day. Urahara claimed this was in payment for his training, but Ichigo simply suspected it was busywork to test his patience.

One such Sunday, maybe a month or so after Kon had come to stay with him, Urahara approached Ichigo with a large manila envelope in hand. As Ichigo adjusted his latest box onto the shelf, he gave the shopkeeper a curious look.

"Don't tell me you're going to start paying me for this," Ichigo asked skeptically. Urahara fanned himself with the envelope.

"Oh, goodness, no!" the blond said with a chuckle, "I need you to deliver this for me." Ichigo raised an eyebrow before reaching over to take the envelope. As he peered at it, he saw there was no name on it, only an address.

"Don't you think it's a little late for that today?" he asked, turning the envelope over to see if there was any more writing on the opposite side. No, nothing.

"It certainly is, but I don't expect you to deliver it today," Urahara said with a wave of his fan, "In fact, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like you to deliver it tomorrow after school. Take your Mexican friend with you, too. There's something there for both of you." Ichigo gave Urahara a skeptical look, but said nothing. If the older demon didn't want to tell him what was up, chances were slim he'd let it slip if Ichigo just kept asking.

"Alright," he said, putting the envelope with his jacket, "I'll take it over with him tomorrow afternoon."

* * *

"What's this?"

The petite, black-haired Superbus plucked the large envelope from Ichigo's hands, causing him to clench his teeth together in frustration. Leave it to Rukia to stick her nose where it didn't belong.

"None of your business," Ichigo replied, snatching the envelope back from her before she had a chance to open it and go rifling through the contents.

"Is that for Amon-dono?" she asked, referring to Ichigo's short, white-haired head of house. They were almost to Wrath House, where he'd pick up Chad. They'd go from there to the address on the envelope, which just so happened to be across town. In the meantime, Orihime could occupy herself with Matsumoto until he got back, and Renji and Rukia could do... Renji and Rukia things.

Speaking of the tattooed redhead, he raised one black eyebrow at the two teenagers ahead of him squabbling over the envelope.

"Let me see that?" he asked, holding out a tattooed hand. Ichigo grudgingly handed the envelope over, grumbling as he did so.

"Don't open it, okay?" Ichigo griped, "And don't fold it or do anything stupid to it." Renji was too busy reading the address to really listen to Ichigo, though.

"Hey, I know this address," Renji said, a note of surprise in his voice. Ichigo's eyebrows rose as well.

"Let me see?" Orihime asked from behind them, craning her neck to see the envelope, "Oh, I don't think I know that street. Is it near here?"

"Nah, it's across town," Ichigo said, holding his hand out for Renji to return the envelope to him, "What's at that address, anyway?" Renji looked genuinely surprised.

"Err..." he trailed off, scratching his cheek and glancing around, "It's kind of hard to explain, actually. An orphanage? Half-way house? I guess that's the best way to describe it, although most of the demons there are older." Ichigo couldn't hide something of a startled expression.

"Huh," he said, wondering if he should consider Urahara in a new light, "That doesn't sound so bad." And it really didn't - maybe this was some kind of charity?

"Actually," Renji said, somewhat hesitantly, "Do you mind if I go with you? I've not been in a while, and it might be nice to visit." Ichigo considered this; he was already supposed to take Chad with him, and Renji was familiar with the place, so that wasn't such a bad idea, right?

"Sure, I guess," he said with a shrug, "You can help me find this place." While the boys talked, Rukia had a thoughtful look on her face, thin black eyebrows arched in interest.

"Renji," she asked finally, her voice pensive, "Is that the place--?" Renji stiffened a bit as she looked at him over her shoulder.

"Huh?" he replied, perhaps a bit too quickly, "What are you talking about, Rukia?" Rukia gave him a skeptical look before facing front again. They had already entered the Wrath House grounds and were making their way up the front path.

"Never mind," she said with a shrug, "It's nothing for a monkey like you to worry about. Anyway, I want to come with you." A vein pulsed on the side of Renji's forehead; Ichigo's patience was also starting to thin. What was this, a field trip?

"Look, midget..." Renji growled, halting as Ichigo also began to speak.

"It's just a damn letter," Ichigo said with a huff, "We don't need a parade to deliver it." Rukia was smiling now; Ichigo reasoned that it was because she realized she was getting under their skin.

"But I have nothing to do today, and this looks like a worthwhile distraction," she said happily, "Besides, Inoue-san can accompany us, can she not? You want to come as well, do you not, Inoue-san?" Orihime, having thus far been left out of this squabble, perked her head up from where she'd been daydreaming.

"Eh?" she nearly chirped, "Oh! Oh, it does sound like a fun trip! May I please go with you, Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo groaned inward, sneaking a glance at Rukia. Sure enough, the she-devil was smirking triumphantly in his direction, chin tilted skyward. For whatever reason, Rukia wanted to tag along, and she had figured out that if she invited Orihime along, Ichigo wouldn't refuse her. Ichigo knew she'd put him into a no-win situation. If he allowed her to come along, only goodness knew what she'd do. If he refused, he'd disappoint Orihime. A strong hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his morose thoughts, however.

"Be a man, Ichigo," Renji said to him quietly, voice full of determination, "Don't let her screw with you like that!" Ichigo felt a surge of hope flood through him. Renji was right - he wasn't going to let Rukia get the best of him like that. As he turned back to look at Renji, though, he caught sight of Orihime looking at him, wide-eyed and quizzical.

Damn it all.

"Alright, Inoue," he said, finally wavering much to Renji's immense disappointment, "You guys can come, too." She favored him with one of her sunny smiles, causing the corners of his mouth to turn up as well.

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun!" she chirped, clenching her fists in front of her, "I promise I won't get in the way of your letter delivering and I won't be any trouble! I'll try not to even daydream!" Ichigo couldn't suppress a smile at this remark.

"That's like asking a fish not to swim," he remarked casually as the group arrived at the front door of Wrath House. Without preamble, Ichigo swung the door open before calling into the foyer at the top of his lungs, "We're here!" He noticed Rukia's self-satisfied smirk fade as he removed his outdoor shoes and went for a pair of guest shoes.

"Manners, Ichigo," she scolded, removing her own as their companions followed suit.

Before Ichigo could respond appropriately, a tumble of messy blonde hair, silver necklace, and pink fabric came bounding down the stairs towards them. Rangiku smiled broadly as she approached; Ichigo was just glad that it didn't look like she was going to make him clean again today.

"Ichigo, you're late!" she sang, waving her finger in the air beside her face, "You know what that means!" Ichigo sighed, shaking his head. Of course she'd try to get some drinks or food out of him for it.

"I can't stay," he said quickly, before she could demand anything of him, "I'm just here to get Chad so we can go deliver something." Rangiku's expression dropped to a pout. Ichigo waved the envelope beside his face for just a second before she snatched it away from him, her pout transforming into an engaged and curious expression.

"Hey!" Ichigo demanded, too late to stop her from looking over it, "Give that back!"

"Ooh," she commented thoughtfully, "This is all the way across town. Were you going to walk?"

"I thought I might catch a bus," Ichigo said dryly, taking the envelope back from the nosy blonde, "But yes, we were just going to walk."

"Shuuhei has a car!" Rangiku volunteered helpfully, causing Ichigo to groan. Not _another_ one!

"That's nice," he commented dismissively, intending to go find Chad and cut this conversation off before he gained yet another traveling companion.

"Shuuhei! Shuuhei!" Rangiku called, wandering towards another room and ignoring Ichigo's discomfort, "Shuuhei, I want to go somewhere!" Ichigo turned to his companions before Rangiku could come back to them.

"Come on, let's go while she's distracted," he said, "We can get Chad and get out of here before--"

"Rangiku-san?"

Much to Ichigo's dismay, the aforementioned Master-At-Arms stepped into the room at that very moment with a curious expression on his scarred face. Worse yet, just to emphasize there was no hope of escape, Chad was with him. And upon hearing her name, Rangiku also came running back to the group.

"Shuuhei, there you are!" she chirped, taking hold of one of the black-haired man's bare arms, "Ichigo and his friends need to go across town to deliver something. You can take us all in your car, right?" In stifling the urge to bang his head into a wall, Ichigo took notice of the pink tinge coloring the older demon's face. He couldn't possibly be falling for this garbage, could he? Just because she was rubbing a bit of cleavage against his arm, did she expect him to do whatever she said? Hisagi always seemed kind of stiff and stoic to Ichigo; there was no way he'd fall for this, right?

The demon in question looked slowly between Rangiku's pleading, up-turned face and Ichigo's scowling and confused one. Ichigo's heart hammered in his chest as he hoped he'd just tell her no.

"Sure, I didn't have any plans for today," Hisagi said evenly, looking for all the world like something just sailed right over his head.

"Hooray!" Rangiku said cheerily, giving his arm another squeeze before darting over to grab Orihime and Rukia by the wrists and spirit them out the front door, "We get shotgun!"

Ichigo wanted to punch something.

* * *

Ichigo still wanted to punch something.

The feeling hadn't lessened during the car trip. No, in fact, it had gotten worse. Here he was, sandwiched between Renji and Chad, the three large frames squished together in the back of Shuuhei's affordable four-door hatchback. Rukia had taken Renji's lap as a seat, happily ignoring his red-faced protests and the man himself as they drove, choosing instead to watch their surroundings pass by in a blur. Her elbow had found its way into Ichigo's face a disturbing number of times already, as well as Renji's.

Ichigo inched away from Rukia's elbow again, fighting the urge to grumble. He silently thanked his lucky stars that Orihime hadn't decided to sit on _his_ lap; while the prospect was kind of exciting in a bad sort of way, Ichigo also realized that it was the only possible way this trip could get any worse.

For her part, Orihime was up front, sitting beside Rangiku in the passenger's seat. Although the seat was only built to hold one person, Rangiku and Orihime were both small enough that they could share the seat without too much trouble. In fact, the conversation over the course of the entire ride had consisted of Rangiku and Orihime chattering to each other excitedly, often asking for input from Rukia in the back. Ichigo stuffed down the niggling sense of jealousy that had sprouted up inside, telling himself that he was just annoyed that Rangiku and Rukia had managed to take over his simple errand and turn it into a girls' day out.

Crossing his arms as best he could and looking towards Chad's window on the passenger's side, Ichigo steered his thoughts toward the contents of the package he was carrying. There was definitely a letter inside - of that there was no doubt - but there was something else inside, as well. He wasn't sure what it could be; it felt a little like cloth with a bit of chain attached. There was a bit of jingling from inside the envelope, as well, and when Ichigo held it up to the light to examine it, all he could see was a black blob with straps. He figured it might be a limiter and the letter might be an invoice, but what he couldn't figure out was why Urahara would ask him to deliver this without telling him what he was doing.

Much to Ichigo's relief, he finally felt the car coming to a stop and being put into park.

"Here it is," Shuuhei announced, his voice as even as always, "Abarai, I'm not really sure about this neighborhood. This _is_ the place, right?" Without preamble, Renji opened the door on his side, depositing Rukia outside the car with no small expression of relief on his red face.

"Yeah, this is the place," Renji said with conviction as he stepped out and stretched, "It's not the best neighborhood, but it's not a bad place to live."

The other occupants of the car began to pour out after Renji, stretching out their kinks from the cramped interior of the car. As Ichigo emerged and looked around, he thought Renji might have understated their position just a bit.

"Not the best?" Ichigo asked in disbelief, "Uhh, Renji? This is probably the worst neighborhood I've ever seen in my life."

It was true. The house they were to deliver the letter to was the nicest house on the block, but that wasn't saying much. While it looked sturdy and spacious, it was certainly dilapidated. Even though the new grass from spring was just starting to poke through, the yard looked as though it hadn't been kept in many months. There was trash piled unceremoniously beside the low wall outlining the property, as though the residents had simply put it out on the curb on the wrong day and hadn't a care in the world as to when it would be picked up. And the house itself was stained, rusted, and in need of a serious paint job.

More than that, though, there was a kind of aura hanging over the entire residence, almost as if a huge raincloud was hovering just above the property. It was just a niggling idea, a thought in the back of his head, but Ichigo could almost swear he smelled death itself coming from that house. No, it wasn't the smell of decay or of actual dead things; it was the presence itself, almost as if the place was haunted. A heavy, cold feeling, as though merely walking up to knock on the door would cause him to drop dead.

The rest of the houses looked decidedly deserted, windows shuttered or broken, doors hanging off their hinges, and yards full of trash and derelict furniture. Ichigo couldn't really blame anyone for not wanting to live in this neighborhood; the imposing house at the end of the block would be enough to frighten even the stoutest of people away. There were no lights, curtains, or blinds in any of the other houses; the sun was hanging low in the sky, and the interiors of all the other houses were darkened. There was the lone stray dog, but other than that, all life in this neighborhood resided in the house they currently stood before. Was that frightful, deadly aura so heavy that even regular humans could sense it?

"Renji," Rukia asked, peering at their surroundings with some curiosity, "This is where you grew up?" Renji froze as though he had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"What?" he said defensively, "I mean, it's not as nice as your brother's house, but it's still not that bad!" Rukia gave him a look of disbelief as she crossed her arms. She was about to protest, but Orihime made a small noise behind them instead.

"A-Ano," she said, hugging herself as though she was cold, "I'll just... stay in the car, if it's okay. I'm starting to feel sick. I guess I'm just not used to riding in cars!" Ichigo's attention was drawn back to her, reminding him of something. This was how she reacted to being inside Kuchiki Manor. He regarded her trembling form with open-faced concern. Was this a reaction to something in that house, or was she just genuinely car sick? Regardless, he shrugged out of his school jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"It's fine," he said gently, "We'll only be a moment. We'll just run in and deliver this and come right back out." Orihime looked up at him with grateful, watery eyes, but before she could respond, the driver's side door slammed. Matsumoto was already in the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition.

"Actually, I'll stay with her!" she chirped above the chatter of the engine, almost too cheerful to be sincere, "This place gives me the creeps, and I know a place not far from here that sells the best ice cream in Karakura! Come on, Orihime-chan! Rukia-chan!" Rukia looked startled for a second as Renji pushed her towards the back seat of the car.

"Ehh? Me?" Renji rolled his eyes as Rukia turned on him. "I would much rather stay with the four of you, if it is all the same to you, _Renji_."

"No, you're going with them," Renji amended eagerly, "You go with them and make sure nothing happens to them." Rukia favored him with a look of disgruntled disbelief, but opened the car door anyway; it was mere coincidence that Renji just happened to be standing in the door's path as she did so. Ichigo could swear he heard him grumble something about 'violent midgets' as Rukia slammed the car door behind her.

"Alright, we'll see you in about half an hour!" Rangiku said cheerfully, wiggling her fingers in a wave. Just as she was about to put the car into gear, Shuuhei flinched.

"Rangiku-san," he said hesitantly, "Do you even know how to drive?" In response, Rangiku put the car into reverse and backed over a trash can.

"Of course I do!" she chirped, throwing it into drive and steering away while the young men watched their escape route vanish down the lane.

"My... My car," Shuuhei moaned sadly, one hand reaching after it as it disappeared.

Ichigo sighed, shaking his head - those two bossy women were more trouble than they were worth. He looked back down at the envelope in his hand and then at the door. It seemed miles away.

"Come on," he said wearily, "Let's get this over with."

"I told you that you shouldn't have let her come," Renji grumbled as they started up the walk.

"Like she was going to take no for an answer," Ichigo fired back in kind, "The hell was she so interested in coming for, anyway?" Renji glanced off at a scraggly tree somewhere off the side of the walkway.

"Probably just being nosy, knowing her," he muttered, not meeting Ichigo's eyes. Ichigo might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to reading people and the situations between them, but he could tell something was off here.

"You didn't want her to see where you used to live," he guessed, causing Renji to straighten a bit.

"Of... Of course that's not it!" Renji said defensively, "It's just that she's not... Someone like her wouldn't understand!" Ichigo's eyebrows arched as he peered doubtfully at the redhead before him. That felt an awful lot like 'reaching' to him.

"Whatever," he dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "Your love life is your own problem." He thought with smug satisfaction that Renji's face would soon resemble his hair.

"Mine? What about yours?" he asked, eye twitching. Ichigo sent him a sharp glare, but it didn't hide the blush now dusting across his face.

"Don't be stupid," he barked, "I don't have one." Ichigo briefly wondered if that sounded a bit bitter. When he saw Renji's vengeful smirk, he decided that he didn't care.

"Oho?" he asked, his voice triumphant, "So you could tell Inoue 'no' if you wanted to, right?" Ichigo felt his eye tick.

"Stop talking about her like you know her, idiot," he said, hoping to dodge the question. Luckily, before Renji could start in again, Chad finally spoke up.

"We're here," he said quietly, pointing to the door before them. Sure enough, while the two redheads had been busy arguing, they had covered the ground from the sidewalk to the porch. All that was left was to knock on it.

"Go ahead," Renji said, smirking. Ichigo shot him another nasty look.

"You used to live here," he shot back, "Or are you afraid they don't want to see you?" Before their argument could progress any further, Chad took the initiative and knocked on the door.

The cheap entryway door jerked open a few inches, stopped short by a chain the likes of which Ichigo would've expected to see on an apartment door. He couldn't see beyond the door; the interior looked as dark as that of the deserted houses around the block. And as for who had opened the door, well... Ichigo could only see a pair of narrowed eyes.

"What?" a curt, male voice asked. Whoever they were, they obviously had no interest in entertaining guests. An awkward pause ensued as Ichigo strained not to attempt to yank the chain off the doorframe and shove the letter down the resident's throat.

"Letter," Chad said, jerking his thumb in Ichigo's direction and finally breaking the silence. The owner of the voice backed away into the house and began to close the door.

"Leave it on the porch," he instructed from behind the door. To Ichigo's surprise, Renji stepped forward and jammed his foot in the door to keep it open.

"Aww, come on, sempai," Renji drawled, a mischievous look spreading over his face, "Is that any way to treat your old kohai?" There was a pause while the man's eyes widened from the other side of the door. Then the chain across the door jangled while the man undid it.

"Renji?" he barked, no small amount of amusement in his voice, "I thought you were across town eating caviar with the snooty nobles! Get your ass in here!"

Renji gave Ichigo a satisfied smirk as the door flew open and he stepped inside. He and Chad exchanged looks before shrugging in unison and following, followed by Shuuhei.

As the door closed behind them, Ichigo's eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room. The first thing that he noticed was that the outside of the house had been incredibly deceptive; the inside looked nothing like it. Instead of being dank and depressing, broken and dilapidated, the interior was clean and stark. Much like the training room at Wrath House, it resembled a traditional dojo with its tatami mats, wall hangings, and sparse furnishings. There was a plant here or there, but for the most part, the only decorations were weapons of all kinds, as well as a few pieces of armor. As he took in all the martial accouterments, it occurred to Ichigo that whoever lived here must have _really_ liked to fight; in fact, in a way, it almost felt like there was a kindred spirit here.

And that was when Ichigo noticed him. The man who had let them in was standing across the room from him, playfully punching Renji in the arm. He was about the same height as the redhead, but built more savagely; even beneath his black hakama and kimono, Ichigo could tell that this man worked out a _lot_. Even more intimidating, and more striking, was his head; it was completely clean-shaven and smooth, catching the light just so as he talked to Renji. Even more strange, though, was the scar on the man's neck, just above his collar; Ichigo could have sworn it was a bite mark. But there was no way a guy like _this_ would submit to someone else... right?

Before long, though, the man had noticed Ichigo as well. Rising to his full height and casting him a challenging glare, he cut Renji off and turned to address Ichigo.

"The hell are you looking at?" the bald man said with something of a sneer. Ichigo would not let himself be cowed. Instead, he plastered on his smuggest possible face and answered the man.

"I don't know, what _am_ I looking at?" he asked, a bit of mockery lacing his tone. Suddenly, a feral grin split the bald man's face.

"Renji, this a friend of yours?" he asked, nodding towards Ichigo.

"Him?" Renji said with a shrug, "He's one of the new Wraith recruits that Rukia has to watch. So is the tall one with him." Renji's friend looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Rukia?" he asked, turning his attention back to Renji, "You mean that girl you were always chasing?" Renji turned red at that and sputtered.

"I thought we were talking about those two!" Renji protested, looking for a rapid subject change.

"Right, right," he said, turning back to the teenagers in front of him, "Alright, smartass - let's see what you've got!" Faster than Ichigo could see - without even removing a limiter - the bald man took stance, pulling a naginata neatly out of thin air. Ichigo watched him in shock; was this the same as Orihime had been able to do with her healing and that shield of hers?

"What the hell!" he cried, not even bothering to remove his own limiter, "How did you do that?!" Instead of answering him, however, the larger man attacked, swinging his pike down towards Ichigo's head. As the blade streaked towards him, Ichigo realized painfully late that he had made a grave miscalculation.

Before the blade could make contact, though, there was a flash of red and white in front of Ichigo. He looked up to see Chad's massive, armored arms shielding him from the weapon, his coin necklace dangling from one of his hands.

"What, you wanna take his place or something, big guy?" the bald man said, disinterested, "Doesn't matter to me. One way or the other, you come into this house, you better be ready to fight."

"Go deliver your letter, Ichigo," Chad intoned calmly, taking a stance as well. Ichigo simply balked.

"You're not serious, are you?" he pressed, unwilling to let his friend take the blows for him, "You don't even have a swo--"

Before he could continue, Shuuhei grabbed his wrist and began moving at high speed towards a door farther back in the room.

"He's covering for you, so let's _go_," the older demon said, pushing through the door with an unwilling Ichigo in tow. The others watched the two retreat before turning back to face one another, Renji off to the side, spectating.

"Madarame Ikkaku," the bald man said, grinning with unbridled mirth. Chad merely looked at him passively as he leveled his spear at him.

"Sado Yasutora," he acknowledged with a nod, realizing that the other demon had introduced himself to him. He had not only volunteered for this bout to help Ichigo out; he also wanted to see the results of his own training, to prove to himself that he was growing. There was no reason to be rude if the other demon wasn't going to be. Rationally, he thought this would be like any other sparring session at Wrath House.

"Alright, Sado Yasutora," Ikkaku returned, his grin completely predatory now, "Let's see what you've got!"


	12. Chapter 11: Monster

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 11 - Monster

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone for their kind reviews and thoughts on this story! I'm pleased to get another chapter out so soon. Since this fic has broken 100 reviews, I'm going to do another special chapter, but it won't be for another few chapters yet. It will also be smut, so look forward to that!

* * *

It was cold.

Of course, it was cold because it was winter, so that was nothing shocking. Even more so because it was early morning, and that time of day had always held a special chill for her. But this morning was different. It was colder than when she had gone to sleep, colder than usual.

The thin blonde girl sat up, looking around her sparsely furnished hovel with sleepy eyes and taking in everything she could see in the pre-dawn light. There were the cinder blocks and clapboard they used for a table (when they had food), there was the cup full of early snowdrops he'd stolen from someone's garden for her, there were the cushions of the torn and battered chair they'd retrieved from a garbage dump, here were the straw mats and moth-worn blanket they slept upon.

The young girl usually huddled beneath the thin blanket with her companion for warmth at night. But now, no matter where she looked in their tiny shack, he was not there. Oh, she was used to him wandering off to find food or follow someone interesting or play with a stray dog or whatnot, but he had never wandered off in the middle of the night before. He had never even let her go to get up to go to the bathroom or stretch before. Instinctively, she knew he was gone for good - just like pretty much everyone else that had ever been in her short life.

"Gin?"

"Rangiku-san?"

Rangiku snapped out of her reverie and blinked, forcing her mouth to turn up in a pretty, forced smile.

"Yes, Rukia-chan?"

"Your ice cream is going to drip," the black-haired girl pointed out, a small trace of concern showing in her voice. Rangiku started, scrupulously licking up any of the confection that had escaped its cone. She simultaneously patted her generous chest to make sure none of it had dripped there, either.

"Oh no!" she chirped, "I was afraid it might have dripped into my little valley!"

Of course, it was a diversion. Rangiku was actually desperately hoping that neither girl realized exactly how disturbed her emotions were at the moment. Ever since Shuuhei had driven them to that god-awful run-down neighborhood, she had felt icy fingers walking down her spine. Just the sight of the lean-to shacks and shanties that she used to occupy as a child made her stomach turn. Worse, it made her heart ache when she thought back to her encounter with Gin in the hallway of Kuchiki manor; the sweet boy with whom she'd spent so many cold nights no longer existed, of this she was absolutely sure.

As she finished licking the traces of ice cream off her fingers, though, Rangiku noticed the other girl that was with her and Rukia. Orihime sat staring at her ice cream, a mixture of worry and confusion evident on her face. Every so often, she'd bring it to her mouth and bite off a piece or lick a stray drop off the side, but other than that, she looked absolutely miserable. Rangiku decided to ignore her own discomfort, instead focusing on the redhead in front of her.

"Do you not like that flavor, Orihime-chan?" she asked lightly, certain that wasn't the case, "Should we get you another?" Orihime looked up as though she were startled. So the house had bothered her, too?

"It's... It's not that!" Orihime replied, smiling brightly, "I was just thinking!" Rangiku quirked an eyebrow at this.

"About what?" she asked openly, genuinely curious.

"O-Oh!" Orihime said, her smile wide enough to cause lines to form around the corners of her mouth, "About the kinds of experiments aliens would perform on you if they abducted you! I hear sometimes they implant these chips in people's skin that track them wherever they go and listens in on all their conversations, but I thought that might be better technology for the Men in Black or a spy organization, so then I wondered if they were helping each other out! But then I couldn't figure out what the spies would have to offer the aliens and got stumped..."

Rangiku honestly couldn't tell if that was really what Orihime had looked so confounded about, or if she'd made it all up on the spot. Either way, it looked like the girl didn't want to talk about what was bothering her, either. Just this once, Rangiku decided to try a different approach.

"What about you, Rukia-chan?" she asked lightly, "Why did you want to stay at that horrible house, anyway? Were you worried about Renji-kun~?" She figured if she couldn't get Orihime to talk, she might have better luck teasing Rukia.

"Wh-What?" the black-haired girl stammered, nearly dropping her ice cream cone, "Who would worry about that baboon? I just wanted to see what he was hiding." She nearly mumbled that last part, a slight blush on her face. This was definitely a topic that interested Rangiku.

"Hiding?" she asked, hoping to lead the smaller girl into the topic.

"We've known each other since we were children," Rukia said thoughtfully, studying her fingernails as though they were quite interesting, "But... there were a few years before he joined his original house where we were separated completely. He refuses to talk about them at all. I wanted to see why he keeps it a secret." Rangiku perked up at this bit of gossip, her earlier consternation forgotten.

"Ooh," she hummed, "I bet he's embarrassed! A pack of hoodlums probably lives there and he doesn't want you to know he was associated with them!" Rukia looked up, startled.

"D-Don't be crazy, Rangiku-san!" she said, her cheeks burning, "Renji is not that easily embarrassed!" Before the teasing could continue, though, Orihime quietly spoke up from behind her ice cream cone.

"That house," she said meekly, "It's a scary place. I think he didn't want you to go inside because there's something bad in there."

* * *

The two demons ran through the wood and paper-paneled hallway, their feet resounding as they struck the floor. The taller, black-haired one was practically dragging his younger, red-headed charge at this point. Finally, the redhead dug his heels in, stopping short of the end of the hallway.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" Ichigo demanded, jerking his wrist free of Shuuhei's grip. The older demon turned to fix him with a stony glare.

"First of all," he replied, "You should let Sado-kun fight his own battles. You're insulting him by doubting him." Ichigo sputtered, red-faced.

"Are you serious?!" he squawked, "That guy is a monster! He could get killed!" Shuuhei allowed a bit of exasperation to creep into his gaze.

"That's a part of battle. He's a Wraith, too, you know," he reminded Ichigo, "Just like you. And just like you, he's been training his ass off. Have some confidence in him." Ichigo looked disquieted, but said nothing past a small grumble.

"Besides," Shuuhei continued hesitantly, looking down the hallway, "I recognize that guy." Ichigo's head perked up at this.

"You know him?" he asked, "From where?" Shuuhei began to look distinctly uncomfortable.

"When I was still a trainee a couple of years ago," he started, "My mentor and his didn't get along at all. I heard about this place then - it was started by a guy the nobility considered a dangerous liability and expelled. He was a Wraith, but he was so blood-crazy that even his own house didn't want him. That guy - he's the one you should _really_ worry about."

"Zaraki-taichou, you mean."

"Yeah, that was his--" Shuuhei stopped short, realizing that it wasn't Ichigo who'd said it. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder towards the end of the hallway. There at the end, a few meters from them in the spot they'd just been dashing towards, stood a thin man in a flowery kimono. He leaned leisurely against the wall, arms folded over his chest and a small, content smile on his pleasant face. His straight black hair framed his high cheekbones, terminating in an immaculate line a few centimeters above his shoulders. The strangest thing, Ichigo thought, was the pair of feathers attached to his right eyebrow and eyelashes. And below that, on his graceful neck, there was also a scar - just like Ikkaku's.

"The boy is welcome to go back and see him," the slender man said, pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning against, "I believe he's been expecting him." Ichigo and Shuuhei stood frozen for a second, matching puzzled expressions on their faces. Ichigo stared blankly for a second at the letter in his hand, wondering exactly what Urahara had gotten him into.

"What's the catch?" Ichigo asked suspiciously. The effeminate man tsk'd and unfolded his arms.

"So suspicious!" he chided, shaking his head, "There's no catch. But you might want to take that quaint thing off your wrist before you go back there. Zaraki-taichou won't go easy on you if you're not ready."

The 'quaint thing' was, of course, Ichigo's limiter. Cautiously, not removing his eyes from the demon at the end of the hallway, he latched a finger beneath the leather and pulled the snaps open. Instantly, a wave of black and red energy washed over him, leaving him dressed in his long, tattered coat and holding his black nodachi in his right hand. His eyes instantly adjusted to the dimness of the hallway, slit pupils widening to let more light in past his red irises.

"Very good!" the slender man said, clapping slowly, "Now, be on your way. You really shouldn't linger in other people's hallways. It's rude." Ichigo cast one skeptical look back at Shuuhei, who nodded to him, and then began to follow the hallway past the man in the kimono.

As soon as Shuuhei took a step forward, however, the man stepped over to block the hallway.

"Oh no no - not you," he said, smiling a thin, sharp smile, "You're going to stay here and entertain _me_." Shuuhei dropped into a defensive stance immediately, watching the other demon materialize a rake-like four-pronged sword cleanly from thin air. The blades reminded Shuuhei instinctively of a cat's claws, almost making him wonder what Rangiku would have made of this. More than that, though, he realized that the other man seemed to be waiting for something.

"Well?" he asked expectantly, "Aren't you going to take that unsightly thing off your neck?"

Shuuhei leveled his stoic gaze at his opponent, reaching up to latch a finger beneath the black railroad track of a choker that was pulled tightly around his neck. How had this man instinctively known that was his limiter, anyway? Either way, the thin black strips snapped apart; a pair of scythes appeared in Shuuhei's hands, connected by a long black chain.

"Oh my," his opponent said, raising his feathered eyebrow, "That's certainly a scary-looking weapon." Shuuhei's stern gaze didn't waver.

"It's not meant to be comforting," he said evenly, "Weapons like these are meant to kill. That's what it means to draw a sword." The elegant man smiled.

"So harsh!" he chided, "You seem very serious about this. But death isn't always the end result of battle. Sometimes it's just for fun."

"There's nothing fun about it," Shuuhei replied, discomfited by this man's nonchalant attitude. It didn't sit right with him that someone could be so easy-going about possibly killing another person, let alone another demon. Baring a sword was something one should only do when intending to kill; he found it disturbing that this man could do it without much thought at all.

"What's your name, Serious-san?" he asked lightly, twirling the four-pronged sword in his hand.

"Hisagi," he answered stiffly, not breaking his stance, "Hisagi Shuuhei, Master-at-Arms of Wrath House."

"Ayasegawa Yumichika," the other man introduced himself, "You're the first Wraith I've ever heard of who didn't like to fight."

"That's because I'm not a Wraith," Shuuhei said plainly, clearly waiting for the attack he knew was to come.

"Oh, good!" Yumichika replied, the tines of his sword beginning to shimmer in an eerie way as his smile turned predatory, "Don't tell the others here, but... neither am I!"

* * *

Ichigo practically flew down the hallway as fast as his feet would carry him. Although his body was propelling itself along the passageway, his mind was back with Chad and Hisagi. Were they really alright? He assumed Hisagi had more combat experience than both of them put together - he _was_ a Master-at-Arms, after all - but what about Chad?

Ichigo knew his friend trained just as hard as he did. He also knew he had a strong, good heart, and that it was in the right place. He trusted Chad implicitly, in a way that he knew he didn't quite trust anyone else. They always had each other's backs at school; even now Chad was throwing himself in harm's way to watch Ichigo's back. At the same time, though, he would never forgive himself if something happened to him.

This brought his thoughts full-circle back to Urahara. It was painfully obvious that the shopkeeper knew this would happen; that was obviously why he'd told Ichigo to take Chad with him. He knew he'd need help in this place, with the two psychos he'd already passed. Maybe he figured Ichigo and Chad could double-team them, or take one apiece. Either way, he was secretly kind of glad they'd brought Hisagi along; Renji was certainly no help. Either way, he had the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that the earlier two demons were just a warm up.

After turning another corner, though, he felt it.

It was stifling, hot, and oppressive, almost as if the air had become too thick for Ichigo to move. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, trying to suppress the bile that had risen in his throat. It was almost, he realized, as though the sharp tip of a sword were leveled at that exact spot.

Even worse, he could feel something stirring in his own blood; his heart began to beat faster, pounding against his chest as though it were screaming to be let out. His muscles tensed, ready to spring at the slightest provocation. Adrenaline, he realized. His body was telling him what it wanted - to fight, to claw, to bite, to kill. He hadn't felt that tension since the night in the alley. Training at Wrath House or with Urahara felt nothing like this. It was the exhilaration of a real fight.

Of course, when he lifted his head, he found himself staring right at a sliding door. Whatever was behind it was giving off that aura, thick and dark and heavy and nearly overwhelming. Ichigo knew with dead certainty that when he slid that door back, he'd be fighting for his life. A grin spread across his lips as he reached one trembling hand towards the handle of the door.

When he drew it back, however, what he saw startled him. Instead of some kind of oni or mythical creature, he saw a tiny girl. She was no older than five or six, with short-cropped pink hair and wide, red eyes. She was in a child's yukata, decorated with stars and flowers, staring openly at Ichigo as her mouth formed a small 'o'. Another demon, clearly - but she couldn't be the one generating that aura. Could she?

Slowly, her face stretched into a toothy grin as Ichigo took a startled step back. Then the little girl called over her shoulder into the dimly lit room behind her.

"Ken-chan!" she chirped, "It's here! It came!"

Dumbfounded, Ichigo watched as the cheerful child snatched the envelope from his hands and skipped into the room. The room itself was much like the other rooms in the house; large and clean, with polished wooden floors and sparse furnishings, a few weapons for decoration here or there. His eyes followed the little girl as she went, though, and eventually landed on the source of the terrifying aura.

There, on a mat at the other end of the room, was a large man no older than his own father wearing a dark yukata with bare feet. The exposed skin that Ichigo could see was marred with scars, some criss-crossing, some completely random, but with more than enough to make Ichigo's eyes widen in awe. He had a rough, angular face, a scar running the length of the entire left side, even down over the dark, sharp eye. More noticeable than this, however, his black hair was slicked back into several tall spikes, each one with a glinting piece of metal adorning the end.

That was not the only glint Ichigo noticed, either. Resting against the man's leg was a battered sword, the edge nicked and pitted as though it had been through several wars. In fact, as Ichigo began to openly stare at the blade, he marveled that it hadn't broken yet. Even more impressively, the edge still seemed keen and sharp, as though the chips taken out of it hadn't dulled it in the least.

"It's about damn time," he grumbled, his voice as rough as his appearance, "Took him long enough." 'Ken-chan' took the envelope from the small girl and slid his thumb under the flap on the end. Turning the envelope on its head, he shook out the contents: a leather eyepatch with tiny-linked chains attached, and a letter. Ignoring the slip of paper for the moment (which Ichigo assumed to be an invoice of some sort), he slid the leather over his face and latched the chains in place. Ichigo watched him, furrowing his eyebrows; there was nothing wrong with his eye. Why did he need an eyepatch?

As soon as the last chain clicked into place, though, Ichigo felt it. It was as though an oppressive weight had been lifted from his chest. He was able to breathe again, his heart rate slowed, and he felt less agitated overall. He wore the eyepatch as a limiter. Strangely enough, though, the sword by the man's feet didn't disappear. Was it just a regular sword after all? Or was he somehow able to keep it out, just like Ikkaku and Yumichika?

Presently, though, the man's attention turned back to the paper Urahara had sent along with the eyepatch. He picked it up and looked it over, his visible eye squinting in disapproval as he read. After a second or two, he crumpled the paper and tossed it over his shoulder with a sigh.

"He's got to be kidding me," 'Ken-chan' ground out, cracking his neck as he reluctantly pushed himself off the ground, "I'm not in the business of training pups." Seizing the sword and giving it a practice swing in Ichigo's general direction, the scarred man turned his attention to the stunned redhead on the other end of the room.

"I'm Kenpachi," he said curtly, looking at Ichigo expectantly.

"I-Ichigo," Ichigo stammered in response, "Kurosaki Ichigo." Looking down the scarred blade, Ichigo took a defensive stance, both hands on the hilt of his black nodachi as he set it squarely before his hips.

"Nice t'meetcha, Ichigo," Kenpachi replied, his voice sounding thoroughly bored, "Well, let's get this over with. I doubt it'll be worth my time, but maybe I'll break a sweat. If I'm lucky."

Ichigo _somehow_ felt he'd been insulted. Before he could protest, however, the sliding door behind him was snapped shut. Suddenly the large man was smiling, baring his wicked-looking canines. In a flash, he was bearing down on Ichigo, the latter having only raised his sword a split second before being bisected by the older man's blade.

Eyes wide with alarm and blood singing with the desire to fight, Ichigo pressed against the blade. He put the whole weight of his body into pushing the other man back and only just barely managed to slide the other's sword off to the side, sparks flying as the scarred metal grated against the black steel of his own nodachi. Nearly stumbling, Ichigo pitched off to the side, breaking into a run as soon as he'd gotten clear of the grinning madman.

Glancing over his shoulder, Ichigo could hear the sound of splintering wood and tearing paper as that damaged sword ripped right through the thin walls. The arc of the sword glanced his shoulder, taking a piece of his black coat with it. He winced; he knew showing his back to the enemy was dishonorable, but he needed to put some space between the two of them.

"Running away?!" Kenpachi roared, taking another swing, "What the hell is Urahara thinking, training a punk like you? If you're just gonna run, I'll cut you down and go back to my nap!" Ichigo felt his blood surge and turned, bringing his sword up to block this swing. Gritting his teeth, he felt his muscles clench in protest as he deflected the harsh blow.

'I can do this,' he thought, feeling a tiny spark of confidence well within his chest at having successfully diverted one strike, 'I just have to take a chance and strike!' Determination glinting in his eyes, Ichigo did just that; he lunged forward with a howl, aiming his blade right for the man's neck.

Suddenly, though, his momentum ceased. Cinnamon-colored eyes widened as he followed the length of his blade; Kenpachi had stopped the black sword with his bare hand without so much as a scratch and was currently holding it as though it was made of wood. His face held about as much interest as that, too.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, "Is this thing even sharp?" Before Ichigo could say or do anything, though, Kenpachi's arm flexed, pulling the blade forward with a sharp jerk. And as Ichigo stumbled forward with his sword, he looked down to see Kenpachi's sword enter his own abdomen. A second later, the white hot pain reached his brain as the blade erupted from his back in a shower of blood. As he freed one hand to instinctively reach for the sword, Kenpachi tugged it free, leaving him to clutch only at its ghost.

"Feh," he spat, flicking his sword clean in one long arc, Ichigo's blood painting the paper walls in bright red dots, "That wasn't even a warm up. That bastard Urahara must think I'm getting soft."

As Kenpachi turned away from his opponent, Ichigo slumped to his knees. He could feel hot blood rising in his throat and filling his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut as he leaned forward, putting his weight on his hands. His breath was coming quicker now, the wound burning as pain overrode his senses.

Before he completely lost consciousness, though, he felt something within break. Not only felt it; there was a noise like the splitting of a tree trunk or the crack of a whip, accompanied by a bright red light.

As Kenpachi turned, his face lit up. Eyes widened with glee and lips stretched back across sharp teeth to form a grin. The redheaded boy had risen, completely healed, two more red slashes on either side of his face to show for his trouble. Best of all, the demon could feel the surge of his aura; it had roughly doubled in strength.

"Looks like you're ready for round two," he said, glee peeking through in his voice.

Ichigo smiled as he leveled his eyes back on Kenpachi.

"Ready when you are," he answered. His voice now spoke confidence and satisfaction, his blood racing as he looked squarely at his opponent. The intoxicating surge of power had left him feeling almost giddy in anticipation of the fight he was about to face.

With a smile on his face, he leveled his sword at his shoulder and rushed the older demon.


	13. Chapter 12: The Second Seal

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 12 - The Second Seal

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long delay, everyone! We just went through our move, and even though we don't have everything unpacked, we are comfortable enough that I can start writing again! So hopefully I won't have any more long waits like that between chapters! Enjoy!

* * *

Large red eyes flittered back and forth, following the dark shapes moving throughout the room. The shadows cast by those monsters moved against the dark walls, contorting and transforming as though they were being cast by firelight. And in a way, they were.

The little pink-haired girl watched with undisguised interest as the swords clashed and banged against one another. Both her adoptive father and Urahara's delivery boy looked like they were having fun. They smiled like old friends engaged in a particularly stimulating conversation on the weather as they hacked and slashed at each other, their blood making pretty patterns on the walls and floors. And like the two men dancing across the room, the girl in question was also enjoying the fight.

Her name was Yachiru, and like the others in this house, she loved a good fight, whether she was just watching or participating herself. Unfortunately for her, she was also too young just yet to have had many opportunities to test herself against an opponent. That didn't keep her from enjoying watching from the sidelines, though.

For as long as she could remember, she'd been watching Zaraki Kenpachi fight. Sometimes he would fight strong opponents and sometimes he would fight weak ones. The weak ones were never any fun; he didn't enjoy them and neither did she. The fights were over too soon and nothing interesting happened in them. Sometimes he and Ikkaku would fight just to have something to do, but the result was always the same, so they didn't do it as much anymore. It had lost its luster.

Even though they fought sometimes, Yachiru knew that Ikkaku and Yumichika were as loyal to her father as any two men could be. They even had the scars on their necks to prove it, just like samurai! And one day, after she could wear a limiter, Yachiru would have one of those, too. She was determined that her father would give her one of her own.

For the moment, though, she could enjoy watching these two go at it. At first she'd thought the delivery boy was going to be just another boring opponent that fell down after one hit. But something had happened - almost like Kenpachi had broken something when he stabbed him - that made him get back up and fight even better and harder. Now this fight was really interesting! Of course, she already knew the outcome - no one could beat her father - but that didn't mean it wouldn't be fun to watch the delivery boy try anyway!

So far, since he'd gotten back up, they seemed to be on equal footing. Before, the redhead hadn't been able to even scratch Kenpachi with his puny little sword. But now they were gleefully cutting each other all over. None of the wounds were very deep or serious just yet - they weren't enough to make either one of them fall down and not get back up - but there was still plenty of blood flying around to make things interesting.

Even better, every time each one of them got cut, they would just grin even bigger and dive right back into the battle, blade swinging. Their joy was infectious, spilling over to Yachiru, who bounced just a bit as she watched them push back and forth with their swords. They were having fun, and that made her glad to watch.

* * *

Orihime stared at the last little bit of ice cream in the bottom of her cone. She turned it this way and that, nervously mulling over the prospect of finally finishing off the last of it.

It wasn't that she didn't want to eat the last of it; oh no, the ice cream itself was amazing! Rangiku was right that this ice cream was the best in town. But the ice cream wasn't responsible for the nagging, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. No, her stomach was doing flip-flops on its own.

Maybe it was the feeling she'd gotten at that house. It had felt like something cold and powerful had lived inside, enough to make her feel like it was the middle of winter as she stood outside. It felt just like the inside of Kuchiki Manor, but it was able to touch her all the way out on the sidewalk. Obviously there was a powerful demon (or demons) inside, but that didn't explain her sense of foreboding.

No, ever since they'd arrived at that house, she'd felt as though something terrible was going to happen. And even though she couldn't be sure, she felt that this particular something terrible was going to happen to Ichigo specifically. A chill walked itself down her spine just thinking about it. She knew she wasn't good for much if he was to get into a fight, but she could at least try to shield him if she was with him.

"Inoue?"

Orihime looked up, slack-jawed, to see Rukia's concerned face focused on hers. She immediately straightened up, her concentration brought back to the girls sitting at her table, who just so happened to be staring directly at her.

"Umm, y-yes, Kuchiki-san?" Orihime plastered a broad grin on her face and tried to appear as unaffected as ever. It wouldn't do to make the others worry if they didn't need to; all this fretting was probably just her overactive imagination at work again.

"It's about time to go pick the others up," Rukia said gently, "Are you ready?" Orihime gave her a sheepish chuckle and scratched the back of her head.

"U-Uhn!" she answered in the affirmative, "Just let me get this other bite and I'll be all ready!" She took a deep breath and finished off the ice cream cone, licking each of her fingers in turn while Rangiku and Rukia looked on.

"Alright!" Rangiku chirped, clapping her hands together as Orihime finished up, "It's time to get going! Let's go grab the boys and get back to Wrath House!" Orihime thought her voice sounded a bit strained and maybe a bit like she was forcing herself there.

All three rose and headed back to Shuuhei's hatchback, a strange, uncomfortable silence lingering between them. They all seemed lost in their own thoughts, causing Orihime to fidget and chew her bottom lip. They were all friends, though, right? If she felt uncomfortable, she could tell them, couldn't she?

"Ano," she finally ventured, "That house... I... I really am worried about them..." Rukia raised an eyebrow, but otherwise both she and Rangiku kept looking forward.

"No, you are right to worry," Rukia said softly, "I have similar misgivings myself." Her voice was grave, but it comforted Orihime at the same time.

"The boys have been training hard," Rangiku said, her voice serious for once, "And Renji is your brother's second-in-command. Shuuhei's our Master-at-Arms, so we should have faith in them. But..." They opened the doors and got back into the car, situating themselves and buckling up. If anything, Orihime's apprehension was growing. What would they find when they arrived back at the run-down house?

"There was something really bad in there," Orihime quietly finished for Rangiku. The blonde's eyelashes fanned down to her cheeks as she turned the ignition, causing the car to grumble to life.

"Exactly."

* * *

Chad was just about at the end of his rope.

Sweat poured from his forehead, running in rivulets down his face. He was crouching, one knee on the ground and the other supporting his elbow, his other fist planted against the hardwood floor. Through heavy breaths and sweat-soaked bangs, he watched his opponent. Even though he was kneeling, his head was up and proud, refusing to bow in submission.

As for the bald man, he was twirling his naginata at a leisurely pace, grinning as though he was a kid in a candy shop. Chad watched the pike twirl; although he was exhausted, he could still follow it and track its movements. Ikkaku was tricky, though. Quite a few times already, Chad had expected him to strike in one area, only to be fooled and left throwing himself at thin air. In that second of imbalance, Ikkaku would strike; it was never anything terribly painful, but Chad couldn't help but feel like he was being toyed with. Otherwise, the bald man would've used one of those many opportunities to finish him off by now.

That didn't mean Ikkaku had taken no damage so far. On the contrary, Chad had dealt him quite a few body blows and was sure he'd broken at least one rib. Regardless, the other man hadn't been deterred in the least; in fact, he seemed to be enjoying this bout even more whenever Chad landed a blow. It even occurred to him that his opponent might be a masochist of some sort, but the idea was quickly dismissed. No, he was enjoying the fight as a whole, not just when he took damage.

As the blade of the spear swung towards him and Chad jumped to his feet, he began to feel as though he might not have been ready for this fight after all. Still, he was still standing and that was reason to hope, wasn't it?

The naginata glanced off the shield on his left arm, drawing blood, but not enough to be a cause of concern. There was no way Chad would give up because of a beating like this; he knew he was sturdy and he had to keep this guy busy long enough to Ichigo to finish his business.

Before both opponents could charge back towards one another again, the front door of the house burst open, carrying a sharp bang back to Chad, Ikkaku, and Renji's ears. And before any of them could process exactly who the newcomers might be, a small foot met Renji's ears as well.

"What is the meaning of this?!" an irate Rukia bellowed. As Renji clutched his poor, abused ear, two female figures darted further into the house. Chad recognized them as Rangiku and Orihime, his eyebrows rising at their frantic pace.

"Wow, someone's whipped," Ikkaku commented with a grin. Chad looked in Renji's direction to see what he was talking about. Sure enough, his little mentor had her superior by the same ear she'd just finished kicking, shaking his head furiously.

"Oww, Rukia!" Renji protested, nearly in a whine, "It's just a little spar! Besides, I thought I told you not to come in here!" Rukia ignored his protests, shaking his ear harder for his trouble.

"Where is Ichigo? Can you not feel that?" Chad took a second to see what she meant; sure enough, there was a monstrous presence coming from deeper inside the house. In the heat of battle, he had missed it.

"Oh, that's just Zaraki-taichou," Ikkaku said dismissively. He sat cross-legged on the floor with a 'plop', clearly bored with Renji and Rukia's little tiff.

"What do you mean?" Rukia asked, watching the bald man act as though he could hear some far-off sound.

"Sounds like he's havin' a good time," Ikkaku said with a lopsided grin.

* * *

As he stared up at the dimly lit ceiling, chest heaving from exertion, Shuuhei realized that he had made a gross miscalculation.

To begin with, he hadn't gone into battle fully prepared. It had been several days since he had been at full strength, his reserves of energy slowly dwindling between 'feedings'. He figured it must be nice to be a Wraith or a Leavite - their power could feed on itself in a fight, allowing the lucky demon to become exponentially more powerful as they fought. Like his opponent, for example.

That was the second place he went wrong. He had failed to recognize Yumichika for what he was. It hadn't occurred to him until the slender man had put him on the floor that he was one of those lucky demons that could recharge themselves in battle. And considering Shuuhei had no real way to do that in this situation, the outcome of that battle wasn't in much doubt.

The sound of footsteps yanked Shuuhei out of his stormy thoughts. Just from the sound and frequency, he could tell it was Rangiku and one of the younger girls, most likely Orihime. Just to be sure, he lifted his head from the hardwood floor and peered down the poorly-lit hallway. Sure enough, there were the two girls, running toward him.

"Orihime-chan, you run on ahead," Rangiku said firmly, "I'll take care of this." A light blush dusted Shuuhei's tattooed nose as he noticed Orihime's confused expression.

"You can heal wounds?" she asked innocently. Rangiku gave her a wink and shooed her on her way.

"In a manner of speaking!" she replied, causing the younger girl to merely cock her head in curiosity. "But never mind that! Ichigo probably needs your help! Hurry up and go to him!" Shuuhei watched the redhead stiffen, a look of fright suddenly painting her face. Then, with a firm nod, she continued in the direction they'd been running, leaving Shuuhei to Rangiku's tender mercies.

"I swear," she sighed, fixing him with a stern look as she began to unbutton her top, "You're hopeless without me." Even though he was being scolded, Shuuhei still managed to smile.

"It's just because you starve me," he teased, earning a kick to the side for his trouble.

* * *

Orihime ran as fast as she could towards what she was sure was the fight in which Ichigo was currently embroiled. As she got closer, she could even begin to hear it; there was the clang of metal, and here was a battle cry. Yes, they were this way, Ichigo and his opponent, the man the bald-headed man out front had called Zaraki-taichou.

The other thing Orihime noticed as she got closer was the overwhelming nausea she was beginning to experience. Not just that, but her entire body was beginning to go cold. Soon, her pace couldn't even be called a run anymore; she was leaning heavily against the walls, teeth chattering and cold sweat soaking her brow. Even though her entire body was revolting against her, though, she couldn't stop and she couldn't give up. Ichigo was relying on her.

As she neared the door the power was flowing like water through, she almost threw up the ice cream she'd just eaten. Horrible visions of what could be happening to Ichigo just on the other side swirled through her head, causing her to sway on her feet. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run the other way and leave this cursed house. It was worse than the feeling she'd had in Kuchiki manor, worse by several orders of magnitude.

Instead of obeying her instincts, however, she reached one trembling hand towards the door, prepared to slide it back.

* * *

Ichigo was grinning ear to ear. Even as scratched and beaten as he was, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this alive.

Kenpachi was giving him one hell of a hard time, but he found that he was enjoying it. He was reaching toward his limits, stretching his power like an unused muscle. Was this what it was like for the taller, scarred demon? If it was, there was no wonder he was wearing such a homicidal smile.

This was the joy of battle, the challenge of fighting an opponent that outclassed him both in strength and experience. This wasn't like fighting those punks in the alley or like getting ambushed by Renji. It wasn't even like sparring with Rukia or Chad or even Urahara himself. This, Ichigo realized, was what it really meant to be a Wraith.  
With a shout of glee, he launched himself toward Kenpachi, sword leveled for another attack. As he was repelled, feet skidding across the polished wooden floor, he heard the door slide open with a snap.

"Ku-Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime's frightened voice reached his ears, causing his head to snap around to see her standing in the doorway.

A million thoughts ran through Ichigo's head as his blood suddenly ran cold. Why was she here? Where were Rukia and Rangiku? He even noticed her nauseous countenance and pallid color. Was she sick? Before he could ask her any of this, though, he saw a look of horror paint her pale face.

"Kurosaki-kun, watch out!"

"Dropped your guard!"

Several things happened in quick succession. Ichigo turned his head just in time to see Kenpachi lunge for him, his scarred and pitted blade aimed directly for his heart. As he raised his own blade to block the blow, though, a rusty orange blur passed in front of his face, arms outstretched as if to shield him with their empty span. Then he heard a shrill 'No!', followed by a wet crunch and a sharp pain in his chest. Finally, he looked up to see Kenpachi's face, the look of triumph melting into one of shock, and then horror.

Ichigo saw all of this, almost as if it were in slow-motion. The sickening realization of what had happened hit him after a few seconds, after his brain had time to catch up with his eyes. Orihime had taken the blow meant for him.

Kenpachi withdrew his sword, the metal sliding out of the twin wounds with a slick slurping sound. Ichigo ignored his own wound; it wasn't very deep at all. The sword hadn't even reached his breastbone, and if it wasn't for the odd burning sensation he felt around it, it would be just like his other cuts. Instead, he was more focused on catching Orihime as she slumped to the floor. As his arms wrapped around her limp body, he could see her pain-stricken face, the half-lidded eyes looking at him regretfully.

"I-I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun," she whispered, a sickening gurgling noise bubbling up beneath her words, "I don't know how to... use that shield right just yet..."

And then it hit him: the smell. That rich, red, spicy, sweet fragrance that threatened to rip his humanity out of his chest and pull the ground out from under his feet. This was worse than last time, far worse. He could feel his vision tinting red, casting the entire world in a hellish, unearthly light. This woman, even as she bled in his arms, the warmth and life quickly fleeing her body, she still held such strong sway over his senses that she was all he could see. Until he took notice of Kenpachi again.

This time, however, his mind barely registered who or what the taller man was. Ichigo neither had nor needed any memory of the other man now; he sensed all he needed to know of him. He was here to take his woman away.

That threat was the only thing that would convince Ichigo to relinquish his grip on the bloody girl in his arms now. He let her body slide down to the floor, retrieving his sword as he rose to a crouch. With a deep growl followed by a fierce snarl, he lunged toward Kenpachi, flying through the air with strength heretofore untapped.

Before he could connect, though, he felt a sharp pain in his back. A coolness began to seep out from the pinprick, causing Ichigo to fall out of the air in confusion. As he hit the floor and skidded, Ichigo twisted his head around to see who had hit him.

That bastard Urahara was standing in the doorway, along with Kon and two people Ichigo couldn't identify. One was a tall, dark-skinned woman with long black hair tied into a high ponytail; the other was a tall, thin man whose face and head were almost completely covered by his hood. It didn't matter to Ichigo, anyway; he wouldn't let any of them take Orihime away from him.

As he staggered back to his feet, though, the world began to tilt oddly beneath his feet. He struggled to keep his balance as the floor bucked and swayed, but it seemed like the harder he fought to stay upright, the more impossible it became. Finally unable to resist any longer, he fell back to the floor.

"Don't struggle, Kurosaki-san," he heard Urahara's distorted voice call, "You'll only make it harder on yourself!" Before he could even wonder what that meant, he felt himself falling unconscious.

* * *

"Thank you for that, by the way. I hadn't been able to undo that pesky seal by myself."

"I doubt that."

"Come, come! This was a much easier way of doing it."

"I ain't arguin'. It was a pretty good time until..."

"Yes. When I heard he'd brought her with him, I came as fast as I could."

Ichigo laid staring at the ceiling for a good few minutes before it registered to him that he was listening in on someone else's conversation. As that realization dawned on him, he slowly began to sit up, groggily rubbing at his sandy eyes. His mouth was as dry as cotton and he felt bleary, like he was seeing the world through a filter.

Then he remembered - he'd been drugged, hadn't he? Stretching and flexing his hand in front of his face, he recalled the last things that had happened before he was knocked out. Orihime had been stabbed, her blood had been everywhere - that delicious, tempting blood. He'd lost his mind for a moment and had become utterly consumed by desire for it. That haze was gone now, he noted with no small measure of relief. He also noticed with a bit of suspicion that his inhibitor hadn't been replaced.

"Ah, he's coming to. Good morning, Kurosaki-san!"

Ichigo looked over to see the bastard that had sent him on that fool's errand in the first place. Of course, Urahara was fanning himself idly, green and white striped hat firmly in place. More surprising, though, was who was sitting beside him.

"What's he doing here?!" Ichigo barked, his voice rough from the disuse of sleep. Kenpachi favored him with a crooked smile as he leaned forward, one hand on his knee.

"Waiting to go another round when you're ready," the black-haired man growled.

"Not in my shop," Urahara quickly amended from behind his fan, "He's actually here to help settle the bills for Inoue-san's care." Kenpachi scratched his scarred cheek, glancing away.

"It's 'cause I missed, that's all," he grumbled.

Several emotions flooded through Ichigo. First there was relief to hear that Orihime was alright. Then there was anger, hot, stomach-clenching fury that she had even been put into harm's way. And then he wanted to punch the two men in front of him; it was their fault, after all, and here they were joking about it! In fact, Ichigo attempted to stand up to do just that, but was quickly floored again by another wave of dizziness.

"Easy, Kurosaki-san," Urahara said gently, "You'll still be groggy from the tranquilizer." Ichigo turned to glare at him instead.

"Where is she?" Ichigo asked, his anger and frustration palpable. The look on Urahara's face softened a bit at that inquiry.

"You won't be able to see her yet," he replied numbly. This was obviously not an answer Ichigo wanted to hear.

"Bullshit!" He yelled, trying and failing again to stand, "I want to see her! Now!" Urahara and Kenpachi seemed unfazed by his outburst, which made him even angrier. He wanted to shake them both until they responded in kind.

"He's got it bad," Kenpachi sniffed to no one in particular. Of course, this only made Ichigo want to hit him even more.

"This is as much for your protection as hers," Urahara explained, genuine regret tingeing his voice, "Until you're fitted for a regulator, I'm afraid you're probably the biggest threat to her here."

"Regulator?" Ichigo asked, his voice tense, "Just give me my inhibitor! I'll put that on and go see her, dammit!"

"I'm afraid there's a problem!" Urahara responded, his fake cheerfulness firmly back in place. As he held up the remains of Ichigo's charred, broken inhibitor, Ichigo balked.

"What the hell happened to it?!" He yelled, "What did you do, you damn shady shopkeeper?!"

"You happened to it, Kurosaki-san," Urahara said, his voice growing more serious, "Like Zaraki-san here, you can no longer wear a simple inhibitor. When we tried to put this one back on you, your power completely fried it. I'll need to order you a more complicated regulator to make sure it can handle everything you throw at it."

Ichigo simply stared. That was how Kenpachi and the others had drawn weapons without taking off their inhibitors earlier?

"Don't look so down, kid," Kenpachi barked, "Wearing a regulator's a badge of honor for a Wraith." When Ichigo gave him a confused look, he continued as though he was explaining the simplest thing in the world.

"A regulator allows you to control how much of your power you use at any one time," he continued, "It also acts like a safety valve if you generate too much." Ichigo simply sat and stared, absorbing the information; he was too powerful for a regular inhibitor now?

"I see," he said softly, even though he didn't exactly feel like he fully understood, "And until I get one, I can't see Inoue because of her..." Urahara nodded his assent.

"Why do I keep reacting that way?!" Ichigo finally blurted out, "Is there something wrong with me?" Urahara shook his head slowly.

"It's not just you," Urahara corrected him, "It's any demon within scent range without a limiter of some sort on. Sado-san and Hisagi-san were also affected. That's why I came with your familiars instead of any other demons." Ichigo once again favored him with a puzzled look.

"Familiars?" He asked, perplexed, "I only recognized Kon..." Just then, the door slid open and the dark-skinned woman from earlier strode in.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize me, kid," she said with a grin. The look on Ichigo's face told her he clearly didn't. "Sheesh, Kisuke," she said, her tone suddenly flat, "You really need to pick smarter pupils." Suddenly, it hit Ichigo.

"Y-Yoruichi-san?!" He squawked, jaw dropping, "I thought you were a guy!" A light blush dusted his cheeks - hadn't he undressed in front of her? The cat lady must have noticed, because her grin widened.

"I love that reaction!" she said before turning back to Urahara, "I just checked in on Inoue. She's stable and beginning to heal nicely." Ichigo's demeanor calmed a bit; it comforted him to be reminded that she was alright again. Urahara and Kenpachi also seemed to be relieved, although the latter certainly didn't seem like he wanted anyone to notice.

"Well, isn't that wonderful news!" Urahara said suddenly, snapping his fan, "Kurosaki-san can stop worrying now!"

"Shut up," Ichigo mumbled, looking away.

* * *

Outside, the pale crescent moon rose low above the skyline. It had barely cleared the roof of Urahara's shop before a shadow spread out to block it from a neighboring roof.

A pair of black wings, black and leathery, stretched beneath the starry sky. The pale creature they were attached to watched the shop with a great deal of interest. They hadn't noticed him in the hours he'd been there. That was a good thing. They were obviously busy and he was only here for reconnaissance anyway. And what information he had to relay!

He had seen the familiars bring the wounded girl in, green eyes following the activity as her bloodied form was carted into the shop. He recognized that scent; it was exactly as his master had told him it would be.

More than that, the one he was told was her protector was also out of commission. He was clearly injured when they brought him in, unconscious from either the damage he had taken or through some other means. This lent him the suspicion that the red-haired boy had come into contact with some of that girl's tainted blood. This was also valuable information, information his master would love dearly to have.

Standing straight up, his entire wingspan visible, the pale man suddenly shifted in the twinkle of an eye. In his place was a small black bat, wings beating furiously at the air as he headed east, into the moon.


	14. Chapter 13: Death and the Devil

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 13 - Death and the Devil

**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

* * *

If Kurosaki Ichigo had been asked to define hell itself, he couldn't have imagined what the past three days would have been like.

There was the waiting. He had healed almost immediately after waking, leaving him with plenty of energy but nothing to do with it. If he thought about it, it was odd; he'd never healed this fast before, and some of the cuts Kenpachi had given him were pretty deep. Nothing even left a scar. He chalked it up to whatever seal had been broken and left it at that.

Then there was the isolation. Urahara had warned him that he'd be a danger to Orihime if he left that room, but what he hadn't immediately told him was that there was some kind of barrier around the room. Sound, smell, and even temperature were all strictly regulated by this barrier. Ichigo suspected it had to do with Orihime's blood; for whatever reason, he knew he was particularly sensitive to the smell of it. Without his limiter, there was no telling what he'd do if he caught a good whiff of it.

Aside from the barrier, there was nothing to do in the tiny convalescence room Urahara had provided him. Sure, he'd been given some sudoku to do, and Chad had brought his schoolwork by, but that could only occupy so much time. There was a small television as well, but there were only so many game shows Ichigo could watch before he wanted to break the damn thing. The radio wasn't much better.

He had entertained a steady, but slow, stream of visitors, as well. Rukia and Chad had been frequent visitors, as well as Renji and Rangiku to a lesser degree. Rukia and Rangiku often brought word of Orihime's condition; Ichigo actually suspected she was the reason Rangiku visited him at all, but he kept that particular train of thought to himself.

From what he'd heard, though, she was slowly mending her wounds. Slow was, of course, a relative term for her. Ichigo was well aware that any normal human would've been killed when that sword pierced their chest. But Orihime was far from normal, and he knew that very well. In fact, even though she had been in desperate shape when she arrived, she had stabilized before Ichigo had even woken up. She still wasn't up and around yet, but he figured it wouldn't be long.

Still, it didn't excuse her being injured in the first place.

Every time Ichigo looked in the mirror now, he hated the person that stared back at him. If he hadn't been so distracted by her arrival, he could have protected her. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his bloodlust, he would've noticed her arrival in the first place. It was almost like he could even hear a faint voice that sounded like a distorted version of his own telling him what a loser he was. Just one more thing for him to avoid, right?

So when Urahara stuck his head into the room for the third time that day, Ichigo was well ready to throw something at him. His constantly cheery countenance had worn out its welcome roughly twenty minutes after Ichigo had found himself there in the first place.

"Kurosaki-san~!" He chimed, unsealing the barrier just enough to step inside, "I have some good news for you!" Yet one more thing to add to Ichigo's ever-growing list of annoyances; whenever anyone opened that barrier, he could faintly smell Orihime. It wasn't quite enough to drive him into a frenzy, but it was definitely enough to agitate his senses.

"What?" He asked bluntly. He wasn't in the mood for niceties.

What he had failed to notice at first, however, was that Urahara was holding a small box when he stepped into the room. As soon as he did see it, though, his eyebrows rose.

"So ill-tempered," Urahara tsk'd, "But this is something you really want, Kurosaki-san!" The pieces in Ichigo's mind immediately clicked into place.

"My regulator," he observed, watching as the shady merchant looked out at him from beneath the brim of his hat. He was answered with a sly smile. Urahara then pushed the parcel into Ichigo's hands.

"Go on, open it," Urahara's voice seemed to almost titter with excitement. Ichigo gave him a quizzical look.

"You act like you're giving me some kind of present," he said warily. At this observation, Urahara only grinned.

"Oh no," he chirped, "Presents are free, and those are _quite_ expensive!" Ichigo's stomach sank; he suspected he was going to be working part time for this crook until he died.

Even so, he needed this regulator to even be normal anymore, and he'd be damned if he'd turn it away now. So with that gnawing feeling still present, he opened the package. And after clearing away the unnecessary padding, he finally found it.

It was relatively small, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand, and shaped like a crescent moon. It seemed to be made of solid silver, or possibly even white gold, and attached to a slender chain just big enough to hide the charm inside his shirt. Ichigo held it up to get a good look at it, letting the chain dangle from his fingers as he examined it.

"This is it?" He asked, a touch of incredulity in his voice, "It looks so... Frail." _And girly,_ he added in his mind.

"This?" Urahara asked, pointing to the chain, "Don't let its appearance fool you. It was literally forged in the fires of Hell. That's what took me so long to get it!" There was something distinctly off-putting about the cheery tone of voice he was using to talk about the fires of Hell and all, but Ichigo tried to ignore that as he slid the necklace over his head.

As soon as the chain settled against his skin, it was like a wave of cold water washing over him. His senses dulled back down to a comfortable level, leaving him to recognize that the lighting in his room had been rather poor the whole time. He was also hit with the cold in the room; his body had apparently been close to overheating, too. And finally, there was the blissful deadening of his sense of smell back to regular human levels. The infuriating, sickly-sweet smell of blood that crept in whenever the door was opened had finally stopped tormenting him. He couldn't repress the sigh of relief that escaped his lips as soon as the metal hit his skin.

"It appears to be working," Urahara observed, his voice reverting to its more serious tone. He appeared to be studying Ichigo intently, probably looking for any outer changes or signs the regulator wasn't working. Ichigo simply nodded, hardly able to speak with his newfound sense of relief. God, it felt good to be normal again.

"Well, then!" Urahara exclaimed, his seriousness finished for the moment, "If you're comfortable, I suppose you'll want to see her?" Ichigo's head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. Finally!

"Yeah," he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse, "Is she..?" Urahara's look softened.

"She's awake and well enough to receive visitors," he answered simply, anticipating Ichigo's question, "Matsumoto-san should've told you that." Ichigo did recall her saying that - obviously she'd have been well enough to receive visitors if Rangiku saw her.

"I just wanted to be sure," he said, his tone strangely sheepish. He didn't want to disturb her if she was asleep.

"Saa," Urahara answered, standing from his cross-legged position and dusting himself off, "I'll take you to her. Oh, and... Kurosaki-san? One more thing..." Ichigo looked at him curiously as he also rose.

"Yeah?" He asked, noting the somewhat concerned look on Urahara's face.

"Inoue-san is very special," he said softly, "You're going to have to take good care of her from now on." Ichigo's features were a mixture of shame and determination as he nodded in response.

"I will," he quietly vowed. Urahara cast him a look that could only be described as piteous.

"You need to understand," Urahara said, his voice still low, "She's very... I suppose _valuable_ is the right word. If the wrong person knew this, she'd be in incredible danger." Ichigo looked calm on the outside, but inside his stomach was roiling. And something else surfaced in his mind, too - a not entirely familiar feeling of possessiveness. It was almost a hiss or a growl, almost faintly audible. A warning, perhaps from his subconscious, that he needed to be more careful of her.

"I'll watch out for her," he easily volunteered. Urahara didn't look exactly convinced, but he nodded anyway.

"You'll need more training," he said, ducking his head inside his hat as he disestablished the barrier locking Ichigo inside his room, "If that day comes, that you need to defend her, you need to be ready." Ichigo wasn't exactly sure what day he was talking about, but this decision was a no-brainer: it was his fault Orihime was laid up now, he didn't want to see her hurt again, and the idea of anyone else trying to hurt her literally made his stomach clinch in anger.

"I will," Ichigo answered firmly. Urahara simply nodded his assent, leading him out of the small room and into the clean, warm hallway. The higher temperature soothed Ichigo out of his earlier consternation over the chill in his convalescence room, causing the goose bumps on his arms to settle down. The lights out here were brighter, less dampened, and he could see clearly down the wooden and paper halls.

Strangely enough, something within him seemed to be reaching out, looking for Orihime's presence. He hadn't realized it until just now, but even through that barrier, he could always tell she was just a few rooms down. Now, though, it felt as though something was missing; a dropped note in a song, an object missing from a still life, a spice left out of a dish. As Urahara stopped in front of one of the doors down from his, he finally picked her presence back up. He could only faintly feel it through his regulator, but she was there. His tense muscles relaxed, soothed by her familiar presence.

As the shaggy shopkeeper slid the door open, Ichigo craned his neck to see around him. Orihime's room was apparently well-lit and smelled of antiseptic, bandages, and Get Well Soon bouquets. As Urahara stepped forward, Ichigo finally caught a glimpse of the creature that had been plaguing his thoughts for the past three days.

"Inoue-san~!" Urahara sang happily, causing Ichigo to wince, "You have a visitor!" When Ichigo properly laid eyes on the girl, though, he felt pain lance his chest.

She was just barely conscious, possibly even having been caught just coming into or out of a nap. Her face seemed peaceful enough, eyes heavily lidded and lips parted, but Ichigo suspected that was due to some serious pain medication. Her dazed expression seemed to back up that assessment, as well. Her hair spread out around her head in an auburn halo, messy from sleep and days of laying on her back. And just beneath her pajamas, Ichigo could see bandages peeking shyly out at him. Even with his regular human senses, he could smell the blood underneath. Although she was clearly healing, the wound was still seeping and those bandages would have needed to be changed frequently. He suspected that was why her smell had been so strong and frustrating to him lately.

"Kurosaki-kun?" she said quietly, following him with her eyes as he stepped around Urahara and came to kneel beside her. Her lips tugged up at the edges to favor him with a tired smile. He knew she was straining for that smile; it made it all that much sweeter, didn't it?

"Yeah, I'm here," he muttered, taking one of her hands and gently brushing his thumb across her knuckles, "How do you feel?"

"Tired," she answered lightly, although Ichigo could sense the truth in her words, "Urahara-san said I might be able to sit up again tomorrow, though!" Ichigo tried to give her a smile in return, but he was sure it looked strained and taut.

"He did?" he forced out with fake enthusiasm, "That's great, Inoue. You'll... You'll be back at school before you know it." To Ichigo's surprise, Orihime lifted her other hand and touched his cheek. Her fingers were warm and feather-light as they traced his jaw, her eyes almost boring into his.

"Kurosaki-kun," she whispered, "It's not your fault, okay? I was reckless." Ichigo's eyes slid closed as he listened to her. He couldn't bear to see her like this, blaming herself.

"Shh," he hushed her, bringing her hand to his chin. She continued, though, ignoring his voice.

"Urahara-san said he'd train me," she continued on as Ichigo winced, "I'm going to learn how to use my shield so this won't happen again." The idea of Orihime working off her training fees for Urahara rankled him more than a little; he certainly didn't enjoy having to do it, he didn't want to see her have to do the same.

"Inoue, hush," he finally said, softly but firmly, "It wasn't your fault - it was mine. I got carried away and let you get hurt. It won't... It won't happen again." Orihime's eyes actually opened a bit more at this, concern shining in them as she looked up at Ichigo.

"But..." she began, silenced as he continued.

"From now on, I swear I'm going to protect you," Ichigo said firmly, causing her eyes to widen more. He could swear he saw the pain of recognition flicker across her face for just a second before tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes.

"No," she whispered, "I don't want... I don't want you to get hurt..." Even though Ichigo could hear the horror in her voice, he didn't understand where it was coming from. Nor did he really care right now; his mind was already made up. If she needed him to be brave, then by god, he was going to be brave enough for the two of them.

"I don't remember asking your permission," Ichigo said with a small smile, touching her fingers to his lips, "Don't worry about me, Inoue. I'm going to get stronger. I promise you I will."

Urahara had slipped out almost as soon as Ichigo had entered. When the boy finally emerged from the room several minutes later, he was waiting for him, leaning against the wall with his arms folded into his sleeves. His normal jovial nature hadn't entirely returned just yet, which was just as well for Ichigo since he wasn't feeling all that happy just then anyway.

"You're going to train her?" he finally asked, his voice gruff. He knew his disapproval shone through in his words, but he didn't exactly care much.

"You disapprove?" Urahara asked bluntly. Ichigo looked up at him warily.

"I don't think I could stop you even if I wanted to," Ichigo observed, causing the merchant to break out into a grin.

"Nope," he replied cheerily, "Not really!" That got him a huff in return.

"Are you gonna make her do odd jobs, too?" Ichigo groused, folding his arms against his chest. To say he didn't trust Urahara around her that much was a bit of an understatement.

"Why, Kurosaki-san!" Urahara sang back at him, "Are you volunteering to work off her training, too? You must be feeling _very_ generous today!" Ichigo sputtered, his face turning beet red.

"I didn't say that!" he nearly yelled. That dirty shopkeeper, he probably planned it that way!

"Just kidding!" he chirped, stunning Ichigo into silence, "She already has a benefactor willing to pay for it." Ichigo blinked away his confusion.

"You mean Kenpachi?" he asked incredulously. Did that roughneck seriously have that much money?

"Oh no," Urahara replied, hiding his eyes with his hat, "He's only footing the bill for her treatment. This is someone else." Ichigo's brows knitted as he thought; wasn't Orihime's brother dead? Could the relatives who'd been supporting her all this time have volunteered for it?

"Either way, that's no concern of yours!" Urahara continued, "Just know that I have the ability to make good on my promises!" The scruffy shopkeeper began wandering away down the hall, waving and calling after Ichigo as he left.

"You're free to go, Kurosaki-san!" he called, "You can even have the rest of the day off!"

Ichigo swore under his breath; this old man was going to be the death of him.

* * *

As soon as Ichigo reached home, he threw his duffel bag onto the floor and flopped heavily onto his bed. The springs creaked with his weight, but he hardly noticed. He was still preoccupied with all the horrible things he was imagining Urahara would do to Orihime.

Jumping jacks? He was sure there would be some of those. Gym uniform? The old pervert probably had a fetish. School swimsuit? His imagination got progressively worse.

"Oi!"

Ichigo's red face snapped up from the covers of his bed at the sound of his little lion familiar's obnoxious voice. Great, just what he needed - another pervert.

"What?" He muttered, dropping his head back to the bed.

"It's about damn time you got back," Kon fussed, jumping onto his back, "Do you know the kind of hell your dad put me through this weekend? He had me stacking first aid kits for two straight days! I'd finish stacking them in one room, and then he'd want them all moved to a room down the hall!"

Ichigo tried his best to tune the familiar out. He was in no mood to listen to his whining.

"What kind of monster does that to a healthy teenage boy? I ask you! I should've gotten to go out and chase tail, not work my tail off!"

Ichigo rolled onto his back, pillowing his head beneath his folded arms.

"For godssake, Kon," he grumbled, "No chasing tail with my face." He was suddenly grateful his dad was such a loon sometimes.

Without warning, Ichigo swung his legs to the floor, knocking Kon over in the bed. Then he rose, trudging towards the door of his room.

"Hey, where are you going?" Kon demanded, "I haven't finished telling you about my crappy weekend!"

"'M goin' to take a leak," Ichigo grumbled, ruffling his hair as he stepped out into the hall.

The house was still early-afternoon quiet. Karin and Yuzu were still at their sports and clubs, and Isshin probably had one of his usual check ups down in the clinic. Ichigo was fully intent on enjoying the quiet before dinner hit the house like a hurricane.

After finishing his bathroom call, Ichigo stood before the bathroom sink and mirror. As he zipped his fly, he could have sworn he heard something - or someone. It was only a soft, raspy sound, almost an unintelligible murmur, but it was definitely someone else's voice. When he lifted his head to look towards the door, though, a peculiar thing happened.

He saw it out of the corner of his eye first, but as he slowly turned his head towards the mirror, the image began to come into focus. It wasn't his own reflection staring back at him anymore.

Rather, it wasn't _exactly_ his reflection. It was certainly created in his image, of that there was no doubt. It had his face, his spiky, shaggy hair. But instead of the blank expression Ichigo could swear he was wearing, his alter image was grinning, staring him down like he was sure a predator would.

This wasn't the oddest thing about him, either. The oddest thing was the way he appeared to almost be a negative image of Ichigo. His hair and his skin were completely white, his nails and sclera black, his irises a sickening golden yellow, and his tongue blue. And instead of the street clothes Ichigo was wearing, he was dressed in a white version of the tattered coat Ichigo's regulator hid from view.

Ichigo stared in shock at the strange apparition for a few more seconds, quietly convinced he must be hallucinating.

"**Howdy, partner,**" the oddly distorted voice came clearly to him for the first time since he'd begun hearing it days ago. It hadn't even looked like the thing had moved its lips.

"What the fu-" Ichigo began before being silenced by the sound of the front door being opened and shut downstairs.

"ICHIGO!" Came his father's booming voice, "I need those first aid kits moved again! Where are you?"

Ichigo flinched before glancing back at the mirror. Whatever the white copy of him had come for, he had vanished just as suddenly, without a trace.

* * *

The next day at school was little better.

Immediately upon entering the classroom, Ichigo was struck once again by Orihime's absence. Her desk and the area around it were deserted. Instead of the usual chatter of girlish gossip, a low murmur greeted Ichigo as he walked to his desk. Without her, the classroom seemed more like a dungeon.

Worse than that, he could feel those eyes on him again. He could tell Ishida was glaring daggers at him. That weird girl that hung out with him was quietly observing him while trying to pretend she wasn't. Renji and Rukia were casting him looks full of pity. And worst of all, Tatsuki was now studying him as well.

Ichigo sighed, pillowing his arms against his desk and resting his head on them. He deserved Ishida's hatred, every bit of it. And if Tatsuki came over right then and decked him, he deserved every bit of that, too.

"Hey," an almost too-cheery voice broke Ichigo out of his reverie, "This seat taken?" The first thought Ichigo had was that the speaker, some kid with blond hair that he'd never seen before, was referring to Orihime's desk. He was just about to tell him where he would put his foot if he sat in her chair when he noticed that he was actually referring to the empty seat immediately to Ichigo's right.

"Oh," he answered dully, "Nah. Go ahead." The kid sprawled across the chair, folding his lanky legs like some kind of weird insect, a toothy grin spreading across his face. Ichigo did his best to ignore his stare, although he was finding it harder and harder.

"You look like someone kicked your puppy," he finally volunteered, a bit too happily for Ichigo's tastes. His cinnamon-colored eyes flickered over to the blond kid and his obnoxious grin.

"That's none of your damn business," Ichigo grumbled, his voice and his countenance a warning to leave well enough alone.

"Tou-chy!" The new guy drawled, leaning his chair back on two legs, "Better be careful, Kurosaki - some people could take that as a challenge." Ichigo snorted and turned to face the gray dreary window on his left.

_'Wait,'_ Ichigo thought after a few seconds had passed, _'How did he know my name?'_

Before he could say anything about this, though, the bell rang and Ochi-sensei entered to take roll. Ichigo continued staring at the unreasonably cheerful new student until the teacher was finished, at which point she managed to get his attention.

"Alright, kids, listen up!" she said, causing Ichigo's eyebrows to rise and his expression to lighten, "We've got a new student with us today, so don't embarrass yourselves while he makes his introduction! Come on up here, new kid!" As the students murmured to themselves, least of all about Ochi-sensei's odd introduction, the blond that had seated himself beside Ichigo stood with a grin.

Ichigo watched with poorly disguised interest as the new guy wrote his name on the blackboard before turning back to face the rest of the class with a bow.

"My name's Hirako Shinji," he said, his odd kansai-ben dialect peeking through, "I'm fifteen years old and my hobbies are listening to music, body piercing, hats, and reversing things!" There was a bit of confused laughter that wafted through the room at his description as the class simply assumed he had an odd sense of humor.

Ichigo merely stared at him, a look of concentration etched across his face. Maybe it was the new regulator, but Ichigo could feel something off about the new kid. In fact, now that he thought about it, he didn't feel quite like anyone else in the room - not like a baseline human and not like Renji, Rukia, or Chad, either. There was something odd about this guy alright, but he was sure it wasn't his sense of humor. But what was it?

"I hope I'll be able to make plenty of friends here among the ladies! Well, and maybe the guys, too, I guess."

He could see he wasn't alone in his suspicion. Renji and Rukia exchanged looks before Rukia looked back to check Ichigo's expression as well. Ishida looked singularly perturbed and the black-haired girl next to him seemed quietly intrigued. All of them followed the lanky youth with their eyes as he finished his little presentation and walked back to his seat.

Ichigo made a mental note to confront the new kid over lunch. He waited patiently through the eternity that called itself Pre-Calc and Japanese Literature, the morning stretching forever before him. As he willed his mind to wander away from the classroom for most of the morning, the sneering white face from the bathroom mirror came back to his mind unbidden.

What _was_ that thing? It looked like him and, in some distorted way, even sounded like him. He hadn't heard that weird echo since the apparition had appeared to him yesterday, but it wasn't far from the edge of his consciousness. He could _feel_ it there, just beyond the borders of his waking mind. It hadn't left; it was merely waiting for something, biding its time. But for what?

"**You won't get rid of me that easy, Ichigo,**" came the wavering whisper from the back of his mind. Ichigo's eyes snapped open from their previous lull, his drowsy head quickly coming to attention at the quiet sound of that voice. As his heartbeat thrummed in his ears, Chad placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Lunch time," he said simply, "Didn't you hear the bell?" Ichigo shifted his wide eyes up towards Chad, who was standing over his desk as the rest of the class put away their books and headed towards the door. He shook off the shock of that voice coming back to him again, trying his best to hide his nervousness from his best friend.

"Sorry, I was distracted," he mumbled, "You go on ahead. I'll meet you in a few." He knew quite well that Chad was aware of how he felt regarding Orihime's injuries, so it didn't surprise him when his tall friend nodded, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and headed for the door.

But as he looked over to the seat beside him, he noticed that Shinji was already gone.

Swearing to himself, Ichigo rose and walked quickly to the door of the classroom, shouldering some of his classmates out of the way as he went. He stuck his head out, looking both ways down the hall before swearing under his breath again; the blond kid was fast, of that there was no doubt. Deciding that he was going to talk to him come hell or high water, Ichigo picked a direction and began walking.

After he turned a corner and passed a row of lockers, though, a hand shot from the door of an empty classroom and jerked him inside. As the door slid shut behind him and he was pressed against the closed door, he looked up to see who had grabbed him. His eyes narrowed when he found himself staring straight into a pair of similarly-narrowed cobalt blue ones.

"Nice to see you, too, Ishida," Ichigo ground out, "I see you missed me while I was out." The thinner boy jerked Ichigo's collar, sending his back slamming into the door again.

"You were only gone for a day," Ishida replied as he released Ichigo, his point having been made, "I could care less what you were doing, demon. You know what I want to talk to you about." Ichigo felt something swell within his chest like a low growl.

"That is none of your goddamned business," Ichigo spat, rage boiling within him at Ishida's prying. The black-haired boy's eyes narrowed behind glinting glasses.

"Like hell it's not," came the chilly reply, "She's a human girl, deviant. If you did something to her, I'll see to it that you pay."

Ichigo's fists shook with barely-contained fury. Yes, he knew he was at fault for what happened. He knew he wouldn't even blame Ishida if he did something about it. But the way he seemed to be appointing himself Orihime's guardian rubbed him raw. What did _he_ know about her? If he actually cared, he wouldn't have kidnapped her after school that day two months ago! And even though he felt responsible for her injuries, the way Ishida acted like he'd intentionally hurt her infuriated him.

"What the hell do you know?" he finally exploded, just barely restraining himself from punching the black-haired boy in the jaw, "You think I'd hurt her on purpose? Screw you, Ishida! You don't know dick!"

Ishida looked unmoved for the majority of Ichigo's outburst, his steely disposition unwavering. It wasn't until he'd thrown his fourth epithet at him that Ishida even looked surprised by any of it. Considering his consistent reaction to the rest of his litany of curses, Ichigo stopped talking as soon as he noticed the other boy's expression.

"What?" he snapped, "Did something I said finally get through your thick skull?" Ishida's eye twitched, his gaze never moving from Ichigo's face.

"Your eyes," he observed quietly, sternly, raising a delicately boned hand to point at Ichigo's face, "There's something wrong with them." Ichigo could feel his anger drain at this statement; what the hell was he talking about?

"What are you talking about?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes, "They feel just fine." While it was true that he could see just fine out of them at the moment - they were lacking their natural photosensitivity - there _was_ something off about them. They had begun to feel a bit warm around the edges, as though some kind of heat were seeping around the corners of them. He only noticed it in retrospect, and because Ishida had brought it up; otherwise, he wouldn't have even realized anything was off about them.

"Something was moving in the corners of them," Ishida observed, "It's not anything I've ever seen or heard of before. There was black in the whites of your eyes."

Ichigo's eyes widened, remembering the apparition from the day before. His eyes were like that. He looked at the curious expression on Ishida's face for a few more seconds before moving to leave.

"I gotta go," he said gruffly, practically flying out the door before slamming it shut behind him. With any luck, he'd be able to get to the bathroom and fix whatever was wrong with his eyes before lunch was over.

* * *

As soon as Ichigo had arrived in the bathroom, he had inspected his face, only to find no trace of the sinister black sclera that had haunted his every waking moment for the past day. That warped voice was also mysteriously absent. So after splashing a bit of water on his face, he joined Chad for lunch and tried to appear as calm as possible.

That calm facade was no indication of what was actually going on inside Ichigo, though. For all intents and purposes, his mind was a battlefield for the rest of the day. His thoughts were in disarray at this development, tumbling rapidly over one another, even in the lazy early afternoon doze of the classroom. What did this mean? Was his white clone forcing himself into his body? Would he even be able to do that? What triggered it? Yelling? Anger? What?

So it was with cloudy mind and heavy heart that Ichigo ditched going to Wraith House that afternoon and trudged instead to Urahara's shop. He paid a brief visit to Orihime, who was doing marginally better; she could sit up and eat soup on her own now, although he found it just plain weird that Urahara's bespectacled helper seemed to enjoy her bizarre requests for different ingredients. If nothing else, it was certainly odd that there were two people in the world who would even eat, let alone enjoy, spicy cream of asparagus and tomato soup.

He didn't mention the weird hallucinations or the fight with Ishida to her. She didn't need to worry about things like that right now, and he suspected that if he told her, she'd just blame herself somehow. He did, however, politely decline when she offered him a bowl of the special soup Tessai had made just for her.

When he asked Urahara to begin his training, however, he was dismissed with an address written on a small sheet of paper. Because Urahara was less suited to train him now, according to Urahara himself, he was sending him to someone better specialized for what he needed. This struck Ichigo as odd - he still couldn't even best Urahara himself in a real bout, nor did he know what Urahara meant by 'what he needed' - but he let it slide with a defeated sigh. He was warned not to bring Chad or anyone else with him to that address, scolded for acting so very put upon where Orihime might overhear, and then sent on his way.

Which had led him to the building he now stood before.

It was old and dilapidated, belonging to one of the human slums in one of the less-patrolled parts of town. Colorful, faded graffiti painted the various crumbling brick and mortar tenements he had passed to get there. Deep shadows hung over every alleyway, hiding destitute humans in various states of dress and undress and decay. And the smell - Ichigo didn't even need his demonic senses to pick up the scent of rotten food, garbage, motor oil, and the acrid scent of smoke.

_'Of course,'_ Ichigo thought, _'Why can't he ever send me to anybody that lives in a_ nice_ place?'_

He had been knocking for the past five minutes, and since no one had answered yet, he decided to go inside of his own volition. He pushed the door to the building open past its creaking hinges and stepped inside. The foyer was a mess of debris and broken glass and at first he thought the building might be completely abandoned altogether. Screw taking his shoes off in this place; he'd be lucky not to get tetanus just looking at this mess.

Just as he was about to climb the stairway to the second floor at the back of the large foyer, he heard a familiar, obnoxious chuckle.

"'Bout time you showed up, Kurosaki! I was beginnin' to think maybe you didn't like me too much!"


	15. Chapter 14: The Fallen

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 14 - The Fallen  
**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST  
**Spoilers:** This is AU. We don't need spoilers, where we're going.  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

* * *

_The soft rustle of clothes resounded throughout the room as the large party seated itself. Some were dressed in their formal garb while some were dressed more casually in more modern clothes._

_Hirako Shinji had decided to wear what he normally did to town - skinny trousers, zip-up shirt, slouch hat, and tinkling wallet chain. Although this was the fashion of the day, he never really felt it suited him much personally; it made him look leaner and taller than he naturally was anyway. The up side to it was that he always stood out in a crowd, and the ladies never seemed to complain._

_Some there had worn more formal clothing. The dark-skinned demon from Sloth house and his blond lieutenant were dressed pretty fancy; that demon, Love, had worn a dark hakama with a white kimono, his striped haori tied together in the front with little tassles. The lieutenant, Rose, had dressed as if he were going to a classical concert in Vienna, all lace and frills at his cuffs. Shinji vaguely recalled a new trend toward such classy clothing, but dismissed it out of hand. He'd stick with the skinny jeans, thanks._

_There were others gathered around the low table. The large, round man that Shinji hadn't formally met from the Demonic Arts Academy, still in his professors' robes; the bespectacled lieutenant from Lust house, dressed in a high school uniform for some reason (Shinji almost wanted to ask if it was a fetish - maybe after this meeting?); his own lieutenant, the tall, beefy, silent sort, who'd come here in his karate gi, of all things (he would never understand Kensei's fashion sense); sitting beside him, arguing over an appetizer, the tiny, green-haired head of Envy house; and last but certainly not least, the obnoxious, pig-tailed lieutenant from Greed house. And of course, as she was Shinji's least favorite person at the table, she felt compelled to sit right beside him._

_"Man, why did he even call this meeting?" Hiyori whined, kicking her legs beneath the low table they were all seated around, "I could be doing something useful with my time! Something that doesn't involve waiting for tea!" Shinji reached over and pinched her on the crook of her neck, hard._

_"Yer not makin' this any more pleasant, ya whiny monkey," he barked, leaning forward to cradle his chin in his hands, "I wonder what Kisuke even wants. Anyone else know?" A quick look around the table told Shinji that, no, no one else who'd been invited to this little tea party knew why either._

_"Complaining about it is only going to make it take longer," Kensei gruffly noted, causing the green-haired girl beside him to stick her tongue out at him and blow a raspberry._

_"Complaining is fun, stupid Kensei," the little Leavite, Mashiro, informed Shinji's silver-haired lieutenant. Shinji swore he saw the muscular man's eyebrow ring twinkle while the cords of muscle on his neck bulged; he was straining his limiter again. If he broke another one because of her, Shinji knew he'd have to listen to his bitching when they got back to Wrath house._

_Before a fight could break out between either of the under-developed girls and their choice of victims, the wood and paper sliding door quietly slid open. Eight heads turned in unison to see who had entered. There, on his knees in the doorway, was Kisuke's Yeoman, with a tray of tea set before him on the floor._

_"Belial-sama apologizes for his tardiness," the young, brown-haired man chimed in a pleasant voice, "Please have some tea while you wait." He rose, taking the tray with him, and began depositing cups of hot tea around the table._

_"Geez, since when has anyone in Kisuke's house been so stiff," Shinji mumbled to himself, earning a snort from Hiyori beside him; at least they could agree on this. As he watched the bespectacled Yeoman set the tea down before him, his irritation with the perfect young man trickled back in. Shinji had never liked this demon, no matter how many times Kisuke told him he'd done this or that amazingly well. Something about the kid seemed off, fake, or just plain wrong._

_But as the smell of the tea reached his nose, Shinji forgot all that. He had never been one for hot matcha; it was too hot and too bitter for his tastes. Give him cold, canned tea or coffee any day. But this tea was different. There was something about it that excited his senses and clouded his mind. It immediately overrode his suspicion of that Yeoman and tempted him to try it. Maybe that kid wasn't so bad after all, if he could make Shinji want to drink hot tea._

_As he picked up the cup, he saw that his companions had already all begun sipping at theirs. So everyone else thought it smelled as good as he did? Shrugging, he took a sip._

_It burned as it went down, and not from the temperature. It was an unnatural burning, almost like a chemical reaction, but Shinji found it wasn't unpleasant at all. In fact, it was almost orgasmic; judging from the blushes he saw around the table, he wasn't the only one to think that, either. And as soon as his palette cleared, the aftertaste left him craving more. Before he knew it, he had drained the small teacup and was already craving more._

_Before he could set the cup back on the table, though, his world lurched. He could hear his heartbeat throb inside his ears, the noise close to deafening. Bile rose in his throat, but his stomach refused to give up its contents. Worse than all of that, he was incurably dizzy and felt as though he'd burst into flames at any second. And if the sounds of cups and bodies hitting the wooden floor was any indication, he wasn't the only one affected in this manner._

_"Poison," he hissed, his vision growing hazy, "Kisuke, you..." Shinji almost didn't register the shuffle of clothing behind him, but a silky voice reached him just as he fell unconscious._

_"Not quite."_

_The last thing Hirako Shinji saw was an unsettling smile and light reflecting off a pair of square glasses. _

* * *

Ichigo stared in disbelief and annoyance at the blond before him. He'd removed the slouch cap he'd been wearing when Ichigo walked in, twirling it around his finger leisurely. This was the guy Urahara wanted to train him?

"You?" Ichigo blustered, "Why the hell are you here, too?" Shinji stopped twirling his hat and gave Ichigo a deadpan look.

"Obviously because Kisuke asked me ta train ya," Shinji replied just as flatly, "Duh." Ichigo suddenly realized this was impossible; he'd wring this annoying asshole's neck before any training actually got done.

"What the hell are _you_ gonna teach me?" Ichigo demanded, pointing at the other man, "You're my age!" Shinji snorted and suppressed a grin.

"Kid, I ain't aged in twenty years," he said gleefully, "And even before then, demons don't age like humans." This made Ichigo pause in his irritation; he'd suspected Toushirou, Momo, Rukia, and the others weren't exactly the age they looked, but he'd never heard of demons not aging. Otherwise, how could he explain Yamamoto being as old and wrinkled as he was?

"What do you mean?" Ichigo asked, less angry now and more genuinely curious, "Why don't you age? How does it work, anyway? Aging, I mean." Shinji hopped on the warped and broken desk he'd been leaning against and folded his long legs like a spindly blond grasshopper.

"Let's see," Shinji mused, tapping his chin, "If I'm understandin' this correctly, you got a seal on you. Couple of 'em, actually. That means that up 'til now, your demon power's've been repressed and you've grown just like a normal human kid. Under normal circumstances, as those seals broke, your growth would slow down to about half of a human's growth." Ichigo eyed him suspiciously, although him having a seal on him was news to him. News that made sense, but news nonetheless.

"Normal circumstances?" He asked, prompting Shinji to continue. The blond just smirked.

"Means ya got derailed by something, Ichigo!" He said cheerfully, hopping off the desk, "Something's happenin' to ya, just like it happened to me! Somethin' big!"

Ichigo felt his heart hammer in his ears as his body froze. What was Shinji talking about? He couldn't mean the white thing he'd just started seeing. He hadn't told anyone about that; there was just no possible way!

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ichigo half-lied, at least hoping he didn't know what Shinji was talking about. His voice was low with warning; until he figured out exactly what was going on with his head, he didn't want to talk to anyone about it, least of all this asshole.

"Oh, I think you do, Ichigo," Shinji replied, grinning at him as he sat his hat aside on the dirty desk. He hopped down, his school shoes clicking against the floor and crunching debris beneath them. Before Ichigo's eyes, the corners of Shinji's eyes flooded black, his irises glowing an eerie golden color. Ichigo nearly felt his heart stop as Shinji began to speak again.

"**Ringin' any bells, Ichigo?**" He asked, his voice taking on that odd, distorted timbre that Ichigo had heard in his own head earlier that day. His heartbeat drowned almost all noise out of his ears, a deep buzzing permeating his skull. Even worse than that, he could feel that heat at the corner of his eyes again.

So now of a certainty, Ichigo knew three things. He focused on this thought as he breathed, trying to calm his raging instincts. First of all, something had changed within him, making him unlike other demons. Secondly, Shinji knew what had happened to him because he had the same affliction. And lastly, Shinji understood how this new situation operated to the point that he could trigger it on command. And knowing these three things was doing nothing to calm Ichigo's chaotic emotions.

"How are you doing that?" Ichigo demanded, his voice changing as he spoke, "**What the hell is happening to me?**" He clutched at his hair, his head pounding. The pressure between his ears almost drove him to his knees. As he looked up through squinted eyes, though, he saw that Shinji had reverted to normal.

"He's reactin' t' me, huh?" He drawled, sliding his hands into his pockets, "That white thing inside you." Ichigo stared, wide-eyed at the blond while he felt the pressure pounding against his temples abate.

"You've seen it too, then?" Ichigo wheezed, chest heaving, "What is it? What's happening to me?"

"You've been exposed," Shinji replied, loping over and taking Ichigo by the arm, "See, there're these people called 'Cursed Ones'. I never met one personally, but there's somethin' in their blood that makes us crazy. Like 'start seein' shit' crazy." The blond demon started leading Ichigo further into the foyer. Ichigo was too exhausted to resist even if he had wanted to.

"Never heard of it," Ichigo breathed. The truth was, though, that things were beginning to click into place in his mind. The mention of their blood rang a bell between his ears, causing him to immediately think of Orihime. At the mere thought of her, he could somehow feel the restless white creature inside him stir.

"You've never smelled somethin' so good it made your mouth water and gave ya a hard on at the same time?" Shinji asked. As ridiculous as the question was, neither one of them was smiling now. In fact, Ichigo's eyes had grown wide and frightened as he came to a halt.

"Oh god," he swore under his breath, "What... What is a 'Cursed One'? What does that mean?" Shinji stopped as well, as the darkened room he'd led Ichigo into cast long shadows on his face.

"This is all just hearsay," Shinji began, shoving his hands into his pockets, "But a Cursed One is a bein' that's like a kind o' poisonous catnip ta us. They cause demons ta go nuts an' kill each other to possess 'em. Supposedly, they smell good, taste good, look good, an' are a blast in the sack. Problem is, they're so rare, hardly anyone's ever seen one. Kisuke had t' read a stack o' old books just ta figure that much out.

"But these things are supposed ta be cursed 'cause o' what they do ta demons. You know how drinkin' human blood might make ya go bugfuck insane an' ya'd haveta be put down? Well, drinkin' cursed blood means you _will_ go bugfuck insane an' as soon as the noble houses find out, they'll put yer ass down."

Ichigo felt his mouth go as dry as cotton. Was this why Orihime's blood called to him like it did? Why it agitated him and why he couldn't get it out of his mind? Was that also why she had weird powers that no one could explain? Was she one of these Cursed Ones?

"What if you don't drink it?" Ichigo said hoarsely, "What if... What if it gets into a cut or something?" Shinji just shrugged at him.

"Same difference, really," the older demon said dismissively, bending to lift something from the floor; Ichigo recognized it as a trap door like the one Urahara used in his shop. A bright light poured between the ever-widening crack in the floor as Shinji lifted it. He then latched the cover and crouched to descend the ladder.

"What happens once... once you're infected, or contaminated or whatever?" Ichigo asked, never taking his eyes off Shinji. The blond turned to give him a bored look that meant for him to follow him.

"Oh, all sorts o' good things," Shinji remarked as Ichigo descended the ladder behind him, "Enhanced powers, wounds heal ungodly fast, all that good stuff. Ya basically become a walkin' tank." As their feet hit the dirt below the ladder, Ichigo was impressed with how much like Urahara's training room this room was. He briefly wondered if he'd been involved in building this one too.

"And the down side is that you go crazy, right?" He asked pointedly. Shinji found a large rock and perched lightly on it, crossing his legs at the knee.

"Yep," he said nonchalantly, "For all intents and purposes, you've just grown a kind o' split-personality. Like an evil twin, except it's a part o' ya. Congratulations! Now if ya don't learn how to get it under control fast, you'll go completely bonkers tryin' ta find whatever Cursed One made ya." This made Ichigo's eyes widen with shock and fear. It was clear to him now that Orihime was one of these Cursed Ones and he knew exactly where she was; what he didn't know was exactly what the thing inside him would do if it caught up to her. He had a pretty good idea, though.

"And what... what will it do if it catches up to them?" Ichigo asked warily. Shinji shrugged again.

"Never really figured that part out," he said, his voice light, "None o' us have actually seen one, not even the one what made us. And when one o' us _did_ get crazy enough ta try an' hunt 'em down, he got cut down."

Cold fear seized Ichigo. Did this mean he wouldn't be able to see Orihime again? Wait, Urahara had obviously known about all this, including what she was, and he still asked Ichigo to protect her - did that mean he could trust himself around her? Maybe if he kept his regulator on, it would all be okay?

"What the hell is takin' ya so long, Shinji?"

Ichigo turned in the direction of the new voice to find a tiny blonde girl with pig-tails, a baggy red track suit, and an angry scowl on her face. Her arms were crossed over her narrow chest in an impatient sort of way that reminded him of Rukia, and her sandaled foot tapped the ground with a fast tempo.

"Oiii, I'm just gettin' him situated, ya damn monkey!" Shinji replied, ignoring the girl's obvious temper. As she stomped over to her lanky comrade, Ichigo took a look behind her. Sitting on the rocks were three people who appeared to be sizing him up.

The most noticeable one was a large man that almost dwarfed some of the rocks scattered about the place. He was dressed in an old-fashioned green smoking jacket and bowtie; that, along with his bushy pink mustache, gave him the look of a kindly old professor.

The second largest one was a silver-haired, scowling, muscle-bound man in a tank top and camouflage cargo pants. His arms were crossed in disapproval, the veins and biceps bulging. If it hadn't been for the row of eyebrow rings, Ichigo would've mistaken him for drill instructor. He looked pretty hardcore either way.

And finally, there was another girl, this one a bit taller than the blonde one, but just as skinny. She was wearing a tight, white motorcycle outfit and a pink scarf, which clashed a bit with her short mint green hair. She regarded Ichigo with an air of bemused interest from her perch, draped across the largest man's shoulder.

"Ne, Kensei! Who's he?" She asked, her voice just as cute as Ichigo imagined it'd be. Then, in a stage whisper she said, "He's staring at us!"

"Some unlucky bastard Urahara wants us to train, I guess," the silver-haired one grunted, shrugging his chiseled shoulders. Ichigo's eye twitched; what exactly had Urahara signed him up for, anyway?

"Ohhhhh," the green-haired girl mouthed, "He looks kinda puny. You don't think he'll wind up like Rose-chi, do you?" Kensei snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I don't think he's got that much fight in him," he grumbled.

"I can _hear you guys_, you know!" Ichigo shouted, his last nerve finally having snapped. First he'd caused Orihime to get injured, then this white thing had started screwing with his head, then he'd found out Orihime was some super-special poisonous catnip space princess, and now _these_ jokers were pushing his buttons!

"Perhaps we should mind our manners in front of the new boy," the large mountain of a man said softly. Strangely enough, his voice wasn't what Ichigo had been expecting at all; he was expecting a loud, booming baritone. What he'd actually heard was indeed deep, but soft and gentle as well.

"Poo, that's no fun, Hacchin~!" The green-haired girl pouted. Ichigo decided then and there that "Hacchin" was his favorite so far.

"Alright, asshole," the little pig-tailed girl finally said, turning to Ichigo and dragging a beleaguered Shinji by his ear, "You got a name?"

"Ichigo," he replied firmly, "Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Okay, Kurosaki Ichigo, here's what's gonna happen," she said, pointing at him while baring a pointed canine, "That thing ya got inside ya, we're gonna bust yer ass until you can keep it under control an' be fit fer polite society again. Any questions?"

To say Ichigo was put off by the bossy girl's proclamation was an understatement. At least Shinji, annoying as he was, had given Ichigo some kind of heads up on exactly what was going on. This girl, on the other hand, was already acting like she owned him, and she'd only just said a whopping two sentences to him! It was authority like that that just rubbed him the wrong way.

"Oi!" He protested, barely keeping his temper in check, "I haven't agreed to anything yet! Who says I can't just figure it out by myself?" Shinji, who had since freed himself, sighed and shook his head.

"First thing ya need to learn is not ta argue with th' midget," Shinji grumbled, his mouth snapping shut when the girl stepped on his foot.

"First of all, don't listen t' this dickhead," she ordered, folding her arms again, "My name's Hiyori, not whatever made up bullshit Shinji's spoutin'. And secondly, if you try t' deal with that blood o' yers by yerself, you'll go nuts an' try t' hunt down whoever gave it to ya. If that sounds fun t' you, just keep bein' a smart-ass."

Ichigo shut his open mouth, only allowing himself the pleasure of glaring at Hiyori mutinously. He might have to shut up and listen to the obviously older girl, but he certainly didn't have to like it.

"Now," she barked, "You already know Shinji. That hyperactive chick over there is named Mashiro." As Hiyori pointed her out, the green-haired girl waved from where she was splayed across the largest man's shoulder.

"Nice t' meet you, Berry-head!" She chirped happily. Ichigo felt his eye twitch.

"'Berry-head'?" He muttered, resisting the urge to yell at the chipper girl.

"The one that looks like he's been suckin' on lemons is Kensei," Hiyori continued. The silver-haired man grunted.

"Ya ever think there's a reason for that, Sarugaki?" The well-built man asked, receiving a shrug for his trouble.

"And the big fella is Hachi," she concluded, "He does all our healin' and hidin' shit." Ichigo's eyebrows rose; healing and hiding? He wondered if there wasn't possibly a connection between his powers and Orihime's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, young man," the larger man said kindly, bowing his huge frame ever-so-slightly. Ichigo was taken aback by his friendliness and bowed awkwardly in return.

"Err, same here," Ichigo returned as politely as he could. Before the grandfatherly man could speak further, Hiyori took his attention again.

"We call ourselves the Fallen," she finished, grinning in an unsettling way, "An' you're about to find out why."


	16. Chapter 15: Bare Grace Misery

**Title:** The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 15 - Bare Grace Misery  
**Warnings:** AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST  
**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note: **No, I haven't abandoned this story! I've just slowed down on updating it to accommodate the other three stories I have going. But rest assured that I won't abandon it unless I necessarily have to or just have no will left to continue it. That being said, I'm just now catching up with my multi-chaptered fics; the next one in line to be updated is Lady in Waiting, and I already have about 1,000 words done on that one. It should be done sometime next week.

I also made a small correction in the last chapter because I realized I'd mixed up two characters' names when I didn't mean to. It became important in this chapter and I had to go back and correct it.

Either way, please enjoy this chapter (as well as Orihime's return to the manga after a year and a half! She even brought some IchiHime with her)!

* * *

_"Get down, Hiyori!"_

_The pigtailed blonde swung herself out of the path of the razor-sharp claws just in the nick of time. Her jacket hadn't been so lucky, but the girl herself was alright._

_"What the hell do we do?" she demanded, drawing her serrated sword up to defend against a second strike. Shinji ran up behind the monster, pulling it back by its shaggy mane and attaching himself to its back. It stumbled backwards, trying to get at him as the blond attempted to break its neck. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite strong enough to snap its spinal column and was flung away for his troubles._

_"We gotta wait on Urahara to get here," he panted, wiping his mouth as he regained his balance, "He's gonna go nuclear on 'im!"_

_The "Nuclear Option". Hiyori nodded to show her understanding. It was unfortunate, but she knew it was likely to be the only way any of them were going to live. That thing had already snapped one of them in half and gravely injured three more._

_Only Hachi had been untouched so far, and that was because he was maintaining the barrier they were fighting inside of. It was only due to his efforts that the demonic nobility hadn't started breathing down their necks yet, with the ruckus they were causing. That barrier not only hid them and any property damage from view, but also scents, sounds, and temperatures. Should Hachi have stopped at any time, they would all have been royally screwed._

_Not that they weren't already. They'd already had to place a call to Urahara for the last resort he'd been developing for just such an occasion. It stung hard; as much as Hiyori bitched and cussed at her companions, they were all still her only family. Watching any one of them get hurt rankled her, and right now she was feeling mighty rankled. But she knew that if Urahara didn't show up, there was no chance of any of them surviving, not even Hachi._

_"Pay attention to me, ya damn big lug!" Shinji barked, striking the creature in the area roughly where its kidneys lay. Hiyori knew he was trying to buy her time to get a strike of her own in - and if she was completely honest with herself, she also knew Shinji was trying to draw its ire away from her. She would almost have been insulted, if it wasn't such a good strategy. They were the only two left almost uninjured, they might as well make the best of it._

_The demon swung its claws wide in Shinji's direction, striking his sword and pressing him hard. This gave Hiyori an opening to drive her sword into its shoulder. Unfortunately, its shoulder blade was tougher than her sword, stopping the metal short and sending the pressure reverberating back up her arms. This thing was a goddamned tank._

_Still, it roared in indignation at having been gouged, turning its attention back to Hiyori as it swung wildly at her. Shinji gave a startled yelp as it flung him back in its lumbering efforts to get at the tiny girl._

_"Yeah!" Hiyori screamed, drawing her sword back with aching arms and baring her sharp teeth, "Come at me, asshole! I'll kick yer ass!"_

_"Keep 'im busy, Hiyori!" Shinji shouted, gathering his bearings and standing. As Hiyori lunged at the monster again, Shinji made his way over to his fallen lieutenant and slung the bigger man's arm over his shoulder. He was bearing the silver-haired man's weight entirely, limping them both toward Hachi. As long as Hiyori kept their foe distracted, he'd be golden._

_"Shinji," Kensei gasped, regaining consciousness, "Mashiro... she's..." Shinji kept his eyes straight ahead as sweat beaded on his brow._

_"She's fine," Shinji said dismissively, finally making it to Hachi, "Let us out, old man!" The pink-haired man complied, cutting a doorway in his barrier for them. As soon as they were free, Shinji let Kensei slump to the ground and looked back to the barrier._

_"I'm goin' back in," he gritted, stepping back the way he came._

_"I wouldn't do that if I were you."_

_Shinji turned back to see the former head of Greed House, Urahara Kisuke, fanning himself idly. His new second-in-command, Tsukabishi Tessai, was at his side holding a large, menacing shoulder cannon. Shinji's eyes widened as he realized how little time they had left._

_"Hiyori, grab Mashiro and get out now!" Shinji screamed, turning back to the enclosure. The pigtailed girl whipped her head around in acknowledgment before disengaging from the monster and sprinting to Mashiro's side to scoop her up._

_"You need to lose some weight," she grunted, hoisting the green-haired girl over her shoulders. Mashiro didn't respond._

_"Shinji, what about the others?" Hiyori yelled back, ignoring the monster looming over her back. Before it could strike, however, something grabbed it underneath its arms and held it fast. She turned just in time to see who it was._

_"Leave me," Love grunted, battered and bloody and still struggling with the fiend nonetheless, "I'll cover you!"_

_"But Lisa-!"_

_"She's already done for," the dark-skinned man informed her, struggling with the thing they'd been fighting, "Hurry up and get out!"_

_Hiyori's expression was horror struck. She couldn't believe they were losing this many comrades in a single night. Her indecision only lasted a split-second more before she took her lip between her teeth and made her way to Hachi._

_As soon as he let her out, she was vaguely aware of her former captain motioning to the battle inside with his fan. She turned just in time to see the shot fired back the way she had come, and the ensuing explosion._

_It was horrific. That was the only way Hiyori knew to describe it. As she let Mashiro slump to the ground, she watched awestruck at the destruction the shot caused. It somehow left the scenery intact while completely incinerating the three demons inside._

_If it were a normal fire, however, it wouldn't have been so terrifying. No, this was more than that; this took whatever had caused the monster to mutate in the first place and turned it up to eleven. He screamed in agony as his form got larger and more unstable, growing from a large, man-shaped, beaked thing, to something resembling a small, winged dinosaur. From there, it became an unrecognizable mound of flesh before exploding entirely. The entire process took roughly three seconds. Worse yet, Hiyori looked on in utter horror as the same process quickly overtook Love._

_She looked away, covering her mouth and nose as though Hachi's barrier didn't trap smell. And although she'd never admit it, her eyes might have been just a little wet._

_"Lisa... Love... Rose..."_

* * *

"We lost three people that night. One was killed in the fight an' one died holding the other one back. That's what it means t' lose control o' this thing."

Ichigo stared at the pigtailed girl in something akin to horror. Was that what the thing growing inside him was? A monster?

"So... What exactly... are we?" Ichigo asked hesitantly. He somehow knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"An accident waitin' t' happen," Hiyori replied, rolling her eyes, "We're monsters, kid. Whatever got inta us, it changed us. We're harder to kill, but if ya let yer guard down, that thing inside you can take over. And when that happens, you'll haveta be put down."

Ichigo flinched at the way she said it so matter-of-factly. It seemed like the most normal thing in the world to her, as though she was telling Ichigo he'd have to go to the store for milk if he drunk the last of it. More disturbing than that was the idea that he could turn into some kind of mutated monster, like that Rose guy.

"So... If that happens... What do you do? When you lose control like that, I mean?" Ichigo was aware he sounded nervous, but he couldn't bring himself to care. If what Shinji had told him earlier was true, he could be a greater danger to Orihime than anyone he'd met yet. At least he finally understood why Urahara had told him exactly that when he'd asked to see her.

"Does it matter?" Hiyori asked, rolling her eyes, "Hopefully, we won't have t' deal with it! Who knows, it might even just be a matter of time for all of us! All I know is that if you screw up and go berserk, we'll end you." Ichigo's eyes narrowed at that. Did she have to make it sound so definite?

"So what do I do?" he asked impatiently, "Are you gonna tell me how to not get myself killed with this thing or what?" Hiyori smirked, that pointy canine of hers peeking just underneath her lips.

"I'm gettin' ta that!" she said, "Hachi! Give us a good, strong barrier! One with five layers!" The larger man, who had thus far been standing a ways off from their conversation, clapped his hands five times in quick succession. Ichigo watched in fascination as five translucent barriers sprung up around him and Hiyori, each layering atop the last. He suddenly had the all-too-unsettling feeling that he was utterly trapped.

When he turned back to look at Hiyori, though, that same sharp buzzing had begun at the base of his skull again. Her eyes had gone completely black and gold, just like Shinji's. Ichigo felt a sharp pain surge through his head, almost taking his breath away and driving him to his knees. He clutched the sides of his head as he knelt in the dirt of the training room, tugging hard at the orange strands. His breathing became labored and he felt like he might throw up at any moment. Whatever Hiyori was doing, she wasn't letting up like Shinji had.

**"What are you... doing?"** Ichigo demanded, disturbed by his own unfamiliar voice.

**"The thing inside ya is reactin' to the thing inside me,"** Hiyori said almost cheerfully, a sadistic smirk on her face, **"He wants t' come out, Ichigo! The sooner you stop resistin', the easier this'll be!"** Ichigo panted, planting his hands on the floor and barely managing to hold himself up.

**"I refuse!"** he screamed, **"This is my mind! I won't let him take over! I won't..." **Before he could finish his sentence, another wave of intense pain overtook him. The thing inside him was clawing it's way out, slowly dragging him under into unconsciousness. Before Ichigo could say or do anything else, however, he felt his vision growing blurry and black around the edges.

Ichigo's last thought as he slipped into unconsciousness was 'Not again!'

* * *

_The blackness began to dull in the middle, slowly pushing the dark void back to the edges of Ichigo's mind. As it did, it smoothly transitioned from black to dark gray to a hazy pale gray to clear white. This all most likely took a total of a couple of seconds, but to Ichigo it felt like an eternity._

_As soon as his vision cleared, he began to look around. The room he was now in was barren and stark white, the only furnishing being the bed upon which he found himself laying. As he sat up, rubbing his head gingerly, Ichigo became keenly aware that he was not alone. And he was being watched._

_His head whipped around to find the cause of his recent distress. There he sat, chin propped on his fist, legs widely crossed at the knee as he sprawled lazily across his large white chair. He was identical to Ichigo in every way, a perfect replica carved out of ice and snow and marble, immaculately white. The only points of color on him were his black and yellow eyes, his blue tongue, and his black fingernails._

_The look he was giving Ichigo made him feel as though this new him was going to devour him._

_"You," Ichigo murmured, glaring at his pale copy, "What the hell do you want with me?" The white demon stirred, moving forward and looking at Ichigo intently._

_**"What do I want?"**__ he echoed, grinning, __**"You should know, Ichigo."**__ When the man in question didn't respond, his copy continued._

_**"I want the same things you do,"**__ the white creature continued, __**"I'm just more honest about it."**__ Ichigo's brows knitted together. That didn't sound good._

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_**"Keheheh!"**__ the clone laughed, a scratchy, high-pitched cackle that made him sound unhinged, __**"Come on, Ichigo! I'm all those things you don't want to admit to! All those urges you think are bad! Fighting! Fucking! All those things you want, I want! I'm you, Ichigo!"**_

_Ichigo stared in horror at this new vulgar side of himself. Was it true? Did he really want those things? And if so, did that mean he basically had his very own evil side now? And how had Orihime created something like that inside of him?_

_**"That woman,"**__ the creature said shrewdly, rising to circle Ichigo on his bed, __**"You wanna know what happens to her if I get out, right? Those others never knew who made them, but I do."**_

_At this declaration, Ichigo rose, allowing the bed to fall away into the pure white background. He would never let this monster near Orihime, that much he knew for certain._

_"I won't let you lay a finger on her," he growled, staring his white counterpart down. The other demon smirked, exuding amusement._

_**"You won't?"**__ he mocked Ichigo, __**"Are you sure you mean that? That means you won't be able to either. Everything you do from now on includes me... partner."**_

_Ichigo felt sick. This bastard knew him inside and out; his every thought and feeling, urge and desire. The only way he could even think of to thwart him would be to simply stay away from Orihime._

_"What if I don't?" he challenged, "What if I just stay away from her?" The white-haired clone snorted at him._

_**"**_**Please,**_** Ichigo,"**__ he said, his voice dripping boredom, __**"Don't bullshit me. I know better than that. You promised that smiley hat bastard you'd take care of her. Besides, you know you can't stay away from her blood." **_

_Ichigo paled at this; his counterpart had hit the nail precisely on the head. If he tried to abandon her, his higher instincts would scream for going back on his obligations, and his base instincts would howl at being denied her closeness. As sick as it was, Ichigo realized just how much he desired her and her delicious blood._

_"Then I have no choice," he said with a shudder, "I'll beat you until you won't be able to come after her. I'll never let you out." The nausea he felt at watching this new side of himself had finally given way to grim determination. Ichigo had made up his mind that he would protect Orihime, and that definitely extended to protecting her from himself._

_**"That's the spirit, Ichigo!"**__ the white devil said, grinning from ear to ear, __**"After all, if I win, I get her and your body all to myself!"**__ Suddenly, Ichigo noticed the long white nodachi in his counterpart's hand. It was an exact replica of the one he used. Ichigo's teeth pulled back in a sneer; like hell he was going to let this bastard steal his life!_

_He could feel it then. His own black sword's weight had appeared in his right hand. It was like a signal for him to lunge at the white creature, snarling and roaring as he did so. As their swords connected, sending sparks flying, Ichigo could clearly see his counterpart's mouth turned up in a twisted grin._

_**"Yes! Yes!"**__ he yelled happily, goading Ichigo forward, __**"Come on, Ichigo! Fight me! If you can't beat me, you can't take those other assholes that want her!"**__ Ichigo pressed him harder for all of his annoying mirth. He already knew he liked to fight, but this was just getting ridiculous._

_"I won't let anyone touch her!" he screamed, "Not you, not those assholes in the alley, _not anyone!_"_

_Every strike Ichigo made, the white beast grinned wider and wider. Ichigo knew he was forcing him back hard, putting him on the defensive, but it seemed like he wasn't making a dent in him. Finally, the clone slung him back with a flick of his wrist. He lazily swung his sword around by the white chain dangling from the end, slowly loping over to Ichigo's fallen form._

_**"Didn't think it'd be that easy, didja?"**__ he drawled happily, __**"I'm not gonna go down like some little bitch just 'cause you finally let yer nuts drop and found a reason to fight." **__By then, Ichigo had recovered, rising easily to his feet and leveling his sword at his counterpart once again. Now, though, he was also smiling._

_"Who said I wanted this to be easy?" he retorted, "Beating the shit out of you wouldn't be any fun if you just stood there and took it!"_

_

* * *

_

"Orihime-chaaaan!"

The buxom blonde came barreling into Orihime's convalescence room, dragging two petite black-haired girls in behind her. Orihime looked up from her spot on her futon, where she was sitting up and reading her schoolbook, to watch her three visitors.

"Oh, Rangiku-san!", she happily exclaimed, putting the book aside, "Kuchiki-san, Hinamori-san! How are you all today?" She favored the three demon girls with a sunny smile, grateful for the company. Spending four days laying in bed with only the TV for company wasn't exactly Orihime's idea of fun.

"We are all fine," Rukia said, shaking her head; only Orihime would be stabbed through the chest and still asking others how they were.

"Orihime-chan, Hitsugaya-kun and the rest of Wrath House send their warmest regards." Orihime watched as the small demon girl placed a balloon bouquet on one of her bedside tables, adjusting it to a place of prominence.

"Thank you, Hinamori-san," she said softly, taken aback by the outpouring of well wishes from people she felt like she barely knew. Before she could focus too much on it, though, Rangiku spoke up.

"That scruffy old shopkeeper said you're well enough to go on a little walk!" Rangiku quickly interjected, "Isn't that great?" Orihime looked more than a little startled, to be sure. She had only just managed to sit up again yesterday and had only been able to go back and forth to the toilet unassisted this morning. She knew she healed fast, but she doubted it was that fast.

"Rangiku-san, that's rude!" Momo scolded. Her protests were sadly in vain.

"B-But... Are you sure?" Orihime asked, fretting, "I can hardly walk." Rangiku breezily waved her protests off.

"That's why we brought a wheelchair," she said succinctly, "You don't have to walk! You just have to come with us!"

The next few minutes found Orihime the center of a flurry of attention as Rangiku, Rukia, and Momo bustled about to make her presentable. Hair was brushed, clothes were changed, her face was washed, and the wheelchair was wheeled in. Finally, Orihime was plopped into the contraption and they were on their way.

"I've never ridden in a wheelchair before!" Orihime happily exclaimed as Rukia wheeled her out of Urahara's shop and into the late April sunshine. The dark-haired girl smiled warmly at her.

"Let us hope you do not have to again," she said gently, patting her younger companion's head. As she did so, Rangiku smirked at them and pranced a little bit ahead of them.

"Why, Rukia-chan!" she said mischievously, "I do believe that's the first time I've ever seen you smile and actually look happy while doing it!" Rukia looked startled, her mouth puckering slightly as she weighed how to respond properly.

"Well, it certainly is not hard to smile in Inoue's presence," she said with a mild blush. Rukia chose to ignore the underlying friendly jibe in Rangiku's remark. This did nothing to deter the older Succubus, however.

"Someone's got a crush~!" Rangiku sang as she walked backwards to keep an eye on them. Rukia sputtered, turning even redder.

"Rangiku-san!" Momo fussed, hands on hips, "Even if she does, that's not your business!"

"As their senpai, of course it's my business!" Rangiku chattered back to Momo while the more down-to-earth girl gave her a frustrated look.

"Either way, that is simply not the case," Rukia said, still blushing persistently, "I prefer men." Rangiku looked slightly disappointed.

"Oh, poo," she pouted, "You're no fun at all!"

Orihime simply hid her laughter behind her hand. These three reminded her of Tatsuki and her friends from school. She was sure the black-haired girl was worried over her sudden unexplained disappearance, but she hadn't wanted to worry her any more than necessary with her grievous injury. Hopefully she'd be well again by the end of the week with the rate at which she was healing and be able to reassure her herself next Monday.

"Why don't we get Orihime-chan a Get Well Soon present?" Rangiku asked, still prancing backward down the sidewalk, "We're still in the human districts, but if we walk a little further, we'll get to the good shops!" Orihime turned her attention back to her companions with a blush.

"O-Oh, you don't have to get me anything!" she insisted, waving her hands in front of her face, "Really, this is fine! It's perfect!" Her friends smiled at her.

"Matsumoto-san is right," Rukia offered, "It's no trouble at all, and we would like to wish you a speedy recovery." Even Momo nodded.

"You're practically family, Inoue-san," she said warmly, "This is the least we could do." Orihime bowed her head to hide her blush.

"Thank you, everyone," she acquiesced, "You're too good to me..." Rangiku laughed cheerily, still going backwards so she could face the group.

"You're so silly, Orihime-chan," she chided, "Of course we're good to you! You're our f-!"

Rangiku was cut off as she collided with the solid chest of another pedestrian. As she turned to see who she'd struck, the other girls got a better picture of him.

He stood about a head taller then Rangiku and was dressed head-to-toe in white. His mouse brown hair hung in waves down to his ears, framing his kind face. And atop his straight nose sat a pair of square, black glasses. He smiled gently as he helped Rangiku right herself. Rangiku simply watched him with wide, scrutinous eyes.

"Careful, Lieutenant," he chided gently, "You're liable to run into things, walking backwards like that." Rukia and Momo immediately dropped into identical bows.

"Belial-sama."

"Aizen-taicho!"

Orihime watched the stately man in fascination as he smiled and motioned for the girls to rise. As she did so, he noticed her attention and turned his charming smile towards her. Embarrassed at being caught staring, Orihime ducked her head to look at her lap.

"Now girls, no need to be so formal," he said, "I see you're out with Kurosaki-san's human friend. Did something happen?"

"She had an accident, Captain," Momo said, beaming at the older man, "We're taking her for a walk to celebrate her recovery." Regardless of Momo's chipper attitude, Rangiku was still casting doubtful looks at him.

"I'm sorry to hear that, miss," Aizen addressed Orihime with a mild smile, "But I'd like to wish you a speedy recovery. I'm afraid I don't quite recall your name. You wouldn't mind refreshing my memory, would you?" Orihime blushed at his direct attention, fidgeting as she favored him with a shy smile.

"I'm Inoue Orihime," she reminded him softly, earning another warm smile from him, "It's nice to see you again, sir."

"Aizen Sousuke," he reminded her, "And it most certainly is. But I have other business to attend to here, and I don't want to hold you girls up. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Hinamori-kun, Kuchiki-san, Matsumoto-fukutaicho. Inoue-san."

The girls said their goodbyes as the handsome gentleman went on his way, some more happily than others. As soon as he was out of earshot, Rangiku shook her head.

"That man is far too smiley," Rangiku finally said. Momo huffed and put her hands on her hips.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Momo corrected her, "Aizen-taicho is a wonderful person, and he was a great mentor!" Rangiku rolled her eyes and resumed walking, Orihime and Rukia following along in her wake.

"Someone's got a crush, and it's not Rukia-chan," Rangiku replied, her earlier mirth quickly evaporating. Orihime vaguely wondered why she didn't seem to like the kind gentleman. Momo, on the other hand, simply sputtered.

"I do _not!_" she insisted, her face turning an interesting shade of pink, "I just appreciate all he's done for me!" Rangiku burst out laughing at this declaration.

"And what all is that, hmm?" she asked, causing Momo to gasp and scowl at her.

"Rangiku-san!" she replied, scandalized, "Get your mind out of the gutter! You're not funny!"

Orihime hid her giggles behind her hand as the two continued back and forth with each other. She felt truly lucky to have made such wonderful friends, even if she wasn't a demon.


End file.
